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buckyalpine · 1 year

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An idea!

Maybe an FWB situation with BestestFriend!BuckyxAvenger!Reader they do it mostly for Bucky after a long, gruesome, taxing mission. Bucky made it clear that no feelings must be involved. He also made it clear that he’s not into her as he is still very much inlove and hung up with his ex. Basically this FWB situation mostly benefits Bucky, even Nat thinks it’s not really a FWB, just Bucky using her. But she doesn’t mind. Bucky is a good fuck. Like damnnn good. And if she can’t have Bucky as a romantic partner, she’ll take what she can get. Besides, Bucky told her that he doesn’t want an avenger or an agent as a partner. Too much danger and chaos for his heart. He wants to love a civilian like his ex, in hopes of living a normal life after retiring.

So, she starts distancing herself when she sees Bucky slowly trying to get back with his ex. Less sex, more excuses. But for some reason? Bucky does not like it. He does not like how you were not there anymore, how you don’t need nor seek him for the “benefit,” he’s also not that happy with whatever he’s doing to win his ex back. She doesn’t necessarily reject him when he asks for sex, just avoids him all in all. Day by day though, she consumes his thoughts and mind. Did he do something wrong? Say something? Forget something? What did he do to deserve this treatment from her? Bottom line, he misses her. What’s weird is, she’s still there as his best friend when he needs either steve or her. Just less of that benefits part

Then it grows progressively worse (for Bucky) from there as he sees her bring one night stands, to consistent and stable dates in their home. He’s still happy tho Bc if the date goes wrong or the one night stand doesn’t satisfy her, she goes to Bucky for a satisfying sex.

However, what pushes Bucky over the edge was one night filled with passion. Both of them feels this sex is different. One thinks he’s doing and feeling this extreme emotion Bc he’s angry while the other thinks she’s just frustrated. But the truth is? It’s passion and connection between them. She feels so good that she can’t help but blurt out “oh god I wish my future boyfriend/husband could fuck and fill me up like you do”

That’s it for Bucky. Those words are enough to make him feral. Just the thought of another man giving her attention, affection, love, adoration, and faithfulness makes him sick to the core. So, He fucks her with all his might, all his feelings. He fucks her with all the possessiveness and the green monster inside him. He fucks her in hopes of filling her full and deep that no other man can reach and own her like he does. (Maybe even breed her so that no man would actually be with her, but him)

Bc how bold of her to think that he would let another man touch her. That he would let her wear someone else’s ring and last name? That he would let her carry another man’s babies? No. Absolutely not.

Obviously this confuses her, but she thinks of it as part of their play. Maybe heat of the moment? Whatever it is, it’s hot and made their sex better so she didn’t question Bucky as of the moment.

Come next morning, she wakes up buried in bucky’s arms tightly and securedly wrapped around her as if she would disappear any moment. She has things to do so she attempts to leave but this just wakes Bucky up. She was abt to say something but Bucky just kisses her passionately yes Bucky now admits what it is. Not letting her go and aiming for another hot steamy possessive sex. Her words from last night ringing in his ears as she tries to leave.

Idk what to do next, I just want them to be happy and together in the end (maybe fast forward to their wedding? To them having twins?) 😭 then maybe the last line was like “well my love, you’re lucky your husband could fuck and fill you just like I did when we were fuck buddies”

18+

This is so perfect, i love this and that ending line is sending me, its so angsty and steamy and fuck it's so cute. Literally had to pull out a google doc to paste the request so I could look at my draft and the points side by side cause of all the details, I’m so sorry if I missed anything

“Strictly sex?”

“Strictly sex”

Bucky’s lips smashed onto yours as soon as the words left your mouth, the both of you clawing off your tactical gear, throwing it off haphazardly. You didn’t even make it to the bedroom; Bucky had taken you right in the middle of the safe house floor, no prep, sliding into you and fucking you till the sun was up.

Moments earlier

The mission was long. Stressful. Violent. Bloody. You weren’t even sure if you’d make it but you’d both made it out alive. You’d noticed Bucky on edge the entire time, his jaw clenched, fingers twitching while you tried to patch up a few scratches on yourself.

“You okay Buck?”

“M’fine” He mumbled, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, resting on the wall of the jet letting out a strained groan.

“You don’t seem fine” You gave him a pointed look, clearly not believing him. “What do you normally do to relax” You cocked an eyebrow while Bucky stared at you, his eyes turning a shade darker.

“Fuck” His eyes bore into you, challenging you to ask more questions, his patience wearing thin. “I fuck”

“I can help with that”

*****

“So what’s with you and y/n?”

“Nothin’“

“You’re saying there's nothing?”

“I- I’m not over Lauren yet” Bucky shrugged, his mind constantly clinging onto his ex. She was the first girl he had dated in years and the first girl he felt anything for in a long time. The break up was mutual; his job took up long hours and the longer he was away, the more they grew apart. The split was made sense but he couldn’t let go of the lingering feeling in the back of his mind about how things would have been if he had just tried harder. Bucky set down the mug he was drinking from, leaving the kitchen while you entered. He gave you a nod, making his way to the gym to punch his feelings away. What if he had just tried harder...

Nat shrugged, not pushing the matter further but she never believed either of you when you both insisted there was nothing more between you. She knew damn well Bucky was using you to fuck his feelings away but it didn’t seem to bother you. You were more than satisfied with some super solder dick because it was good. Damn good. Still, she was a trained assassin and not stupid. Nat could see the way your eyes would linger on him for a second longer and the way you’d lighten up as soon as he stepped into the room.

“So you and Barnes are just friends, huh?”

“Obviously” You looked at her with wide eyes, hoping to ignore her question while you made yourself some tea but she continued to stare at your instead. “It’s nothing more than that. We hook up sometimes but it’s just casual”

“And you’re completely okay with things staying just the way they are?” She cocked an eyebrow, her eyes narrowed accusatorily as if she could see right through you. “You’re fine with always just being a quick fuck?”

“It’s what we both need, honestly, I’m fine with the way things are” You nodded, thinking back to a conversation the both of you had both had after a mission.

“If I ever settle down, it’d have to be with someone outside of all this”

“Outside of what?”

“This” Bucky waved his hand around, pointing to the arsenal of weapons you were putting away after yet another grueling mission. “All this avenger shit, saving the world. I just want to go home to something peaceful. normal. Leave all this behind and just exist with someone I love. I’d never date someone from the team or someone associated with this, it’s too much”

You felt a strange tightness in your chest at his words but you shrugged the feeling off, understanding where Bucky was coming from.

“So who do you think you’ll end up with Barnes”

Why were you asking him this as if you’d like the answer.

“Maybe someone like Lauren” He mumbled, “Just someone who isn’t a part of this. Normal”

You felt the tightness creep back up but you shoved it back down. After all he’d been through, he deserved a little bit of normal.

You took your tea and made your way to your room, sipping while you thought about Nat’s question. Were you okay with the way things were? He was a good friend to you and no doubt the only person who could have you screaming till your lungs were sore.

Still.

He was never yours.

He never saw you that way.

You were just a good fuck.

He always loved his ex.

It didn’t help that you’d recently noticed he’d been out more often. He didn’t say anything to you directly but you could tell he was trying to get back with his ex. Cut his hair. Cleaned up. Quietly going out and not breathing a word about where he was off to. You weren’t 100% sure what he was doing but it was enough for you to decided you had to pull back.

A few weeks later

Bucky frowned, hearing yet another excuse from you as you made your way to your room, softly closing your door and hearing the muffled noise of your TV switch on, not going to bed like you insisted. It had been weeks since he’d spoken to you properly. He couldn’t even remember the last time you had the benefits part of your “friendship” You were usually always slinking around him like a cat, your touch, your voice, your scent, some form of you always surrounding him.

Recently?

Nothing.

He didn’t like it.

Not one damn bit.

He hated that you didn’t wrap your arms around him randomly, whispering in his ear about how badly you needed him. Or the way you’d bite your lip looking over to him in the middle of the field, a silent promise of sucking his soul out as soon as the mission was over. Or how your back would arch off the bed, your thighs suffocating him, tugging the hair from his roots when he nursed from your clit as if your arousal quenched his thirst. Or the way he’d let his cum seep down your thighs, fucking it back into you with his fingers, getting you to lick them clean afterwards-

Bucky groaned to himself, shifting uncomfortably at the hard on he’d given himself thinking about you. It’s not even like he could go to you to get you to take care of it. The few time’s he’d tried to initiate something, you were tired. Had cramps. Not feeling well. Injured. Always something, leaving him high and dry, avoiding him all together. He decided to make his way down to the gym, punching his feelings away yet again, though this time they were over you.

A few more days had done by and Bucky was worse than before. Sure he was talking to his ex again, but he was more concerned over the growing distance between you both. You’d both agreed the benefits would stay just the same unless either of you got into a committed relationship and while he had reconnected with Lauren, they weren’t official....

Why did you avoid him so much?

Was it because of Lauren?

Why did he even try to reconnect with her...

How come you didn’t let him get close to you anymore?

He started to wrack and pick at his brain wondering where it all went down hill. Did he say something to you? He didn’t forget your birthday, he’d gotten you everything you’d ever mentioned, even the littlest things you figured he hadn’t paid attention to. So what did he do to deserve this? He’s pent up like never before and it’s not just sexually. It dawns on him that he needs more than just sex, he also needs your friendship, your softness, your laugh.

He missed you.

All of you.

Of course you were there for him when he needed you, patching him up after missions, keeping his favorite snacks always stocked up, listening to him vent about Sam. It wasn’t the same though. As soon as you did your job taking care of him, you were out of his hair and off to do something else that had nothing to do with him.

*****

Bucky thought it was bad before but now he was seeing red. He was silently seething, seeing yet another handsome stranger drop you off, kissing you and giving your ass a playful squeeze before letting you make your way inside. The worst was when your stupid dates would actually make it inside the compound and all the way up to your room, Bucky had never been more thankful for sound proof walls. He watched you carefully, your smile dropping as soon as your date drove off, kicking your heels off and making your way to the kitchen to pour yourself a drink.

Though Bucky despised seeing you after dates (unable to understand why he felt so strongly about them in the first place) there was one benefit to your rendezvous. One he wouldn’t openly admit to enjoying. A twisted part of him was happy when you didn’t enjoy yourself because while you would keep your distance from him on a regular basis, there were a few select times you’d relent and give into your needs. Like right now.

“Bad date?” He cocked his head while you downed the dark liquid in one go, slinking over to his side, the warmth of your skin radiating off you. You nodded, letting your arms drape around his shoulders, standing between his legs.

“Wanna help me forget?”

It happened often and left Bucky more tormented than before. He hated that you only came to him when you needed to forget your shitty date but what could he say when you were supposed to be just friends with benefits anyway. You have a hold on him he can’t even explain. A hold no one else had ever had on him before. Not even his ex.

His ex.

Bucky isn’t even sure why he had tried to reconnect with her. He realized there was nothing between the day he met her again after months. He remembered the relationship differently; rose coloured glasses making him forget that there wasn’t ever a strong connection between them. Now he was struggling to figure out why all of his thoughts were consumed with you. If that was the only way he’d get to have you then he’d take what he could get.

*****

Bucky smiled to himself when he heard the a soft knock at his door, opening it to find your semi disheveled state, your hair a mess, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt.

“Need something doll?” Bucky smirked while you rolled your eyes, pushing past him, walking right into his room. You were there for one thing and one thing only. He knew it and you knew it.

“You know what I need Barnes” You huffed, unsatisfied from your date who rubbed you like a scratch lottery ticket, asking if you had finished 30 seconds after. “He couldn’t find my clit” You shook your head, tossing your tshirt off, leaving you bare moving laying on his bed “Not that most guys can”

Bucky felt all of his blood rush down south, it didn’t matter how many times he’d seen you naked, how many times he’d had you spread out for him, he’d forever be taken with how perfect you looked wearing absolutely nothing. He palmed his boner as he made his way over to you, stripping all his clothes off before giving his cock a few tugs.

“Pretty sure I can” Bucky murmured, crawling onto the bed and spreading your legs in front of his face. “And if I remember correctly...” He nipped your inner thigh making, smiling to himself at the soft gasp that slipped form your lips, pressing a sloppy wet kiss right onto your clit “It’s right there, isn’t it baby”

You let out a whimper, nodding while he hummed, a cocky smirk curling on his lips. He pressing his hard cock against the mattress for some relief, the feel of your soft silkiness making him leak. “I know exactly where my pretty doll’s clit is, don’t worry your pretty head baby”

“He didn’t know how to touch you, huh” Bucky cocked an eyebrow when you silent shook your head, his thumb coming to rub soft circles around your clit, “You like it slow and gentle at first, hm? Barely touching you, teasing you a little before getting faster?” Bucky watched you carefully, your chest rising up and down faster as he started to apply more pressure, his blue eyes locked with yours. “Then you like it faster, just like this” He removed his thumb, twitching to his two fingers', coating them in your arousal before using his fingers tips to rub you making you moan louder, “That’s right, sing for me baby, sing for me while I play with your pretty little clit”

“I remember you loved when I did this...” He gently sealed his lips around your sensitive nub, suckling with the lightest pressure, his hands holding your thighs apart, loving the way you moaned just for him. He pulled off so he could use his tongue, lapping and twirling around your clit, groaning at the sweetness that coated his tongue.

“Need-need more” You moaned, getting louder as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them and speeding up his pace, grinding against the bed, his balls growing heavy. “Need your cock Bucky! Please fuck me” You grabbed at his shoulders, too desperate for just his fingers, needing to feel all of him.

“Okay, okay baby, m’here” Bucky cooed, as he came up, kissing your neck, jealousy creeping through his veins smelling the remnants of your dates cologne still lingering on your skin.

Another man. Who touched you. Felt your body.

Unacceptable.

“Need you” You moaned again, feeling his cock nudge against your soaked entrance, your thighs wrapping around his waist. Your eyes were practically pleading with him, rolling back when you felt him start to press into you, moaning into your neck.

“You have me” Bucky groaned as he shoved his cock into you, not giving you a second to adjust, his arms wrapped tightly around you, and pounding you right into the mattress. You cried out from pleasure, the air nearly knocked out of your lungs from his cock hitting your sweet spot, his cock starting to drip inside you. You could feel him all over, his body weight heavy on top of yours, the scent of his body wash, the scent of him, the heat off his body, the way he tasted when he smashed his lips against yours.

You’d hooked up plenty of times before but none of them were like this.

Bucky’s face was tucked into the crook of your neck, sucking dark bruises, gently licking and kissing them right after. His arms were holding you tight against him, rolling his hips so that he’d still be pressed against every inch of your body the entire time. It felt like he was trying to fuck the deepest depths of your soul, unrelenting, the bed post steadily thudding against the bedroom wall.

Bucky felt it too. Something more. He didn’t know what, maybe you were frustrated, pent up from being unsatisfied but he’d never had you like this before. Your legs squeezed his sides, your nails scratching down his back, trying to pull him impossibly closer. You were begging him for more, nearly crying, tears clouding your vision as he braced himself up slightly on his knees, fucking you even deeper. He savored your sweetness on his tongue, the smell of your shampoo, how silky and soft your body was. His cock was throbbing, threatening to blow sooner than he’d like, your pussy sucking him back in every time he fucked you.

Your hands went to card through his hair, your nails grazing through his scalp, drawing the sluttiest moan from Bucky, his eyes rolling back, fucking you even harder. You could feel your arousal squirt out of you at how desperate and delicious he sounded, squirming under him, feeling the wiry hair at the base of his cock rub against your clit.

No one else had ever satisfied you the way he did, touching you in a way that made your body light on fire. He felt so good, fucked so good, tasted so good, made you feel things everywhere. Your heart was screaming, wanting to making the night last forever, but forever wasn’t something either of you agreed on. He wasn’t yours. If only. If only you could always have this. You needed this. Exactly this. You tried to bite your tongue, your voice needy and broken, unable to stop the words from tumbling out as your mind swirled.

“Fuck Bucky I wish my future husband would fuck me this good, oh god-

You cried out as he growled, grabbing you and bringing your knees up, angling his hips till his thrusts made your belly bulge. He felt feral hearing your words, knowing you needed more of what he was giving you, what only he could give you. No one else would ever make you feel this good.

“Yeah? That what you want? Another man to fuck like me?” Bucky felt another surge of jealously course through his veins at the thought of another man having you the way he did. Another man touching you. Making love to you. Fucking you. Filling your tight cunt with their cum, breeding you till your belly was round and swollen. He snarled against your neck thinking about you carrying someone elses name. Someone else making you feel good, making you moan, putting their cock in you, it was supposed to be just him. Only him.

Huh.

Why was he so possessive.

He tried to shake off the thought but the image seared into his brain.

He couldn’t stand the image of you in your wedding dress, saying I do to a man that was someone else, your soft lips kissing theirs, sealing the both of you together forever, taking you away from him.

Fuck that.

Bucky fucked you like his life depended on it, the green monster of envy and jealous possessing his very soul, pouring all his feelings into the way he fucked you. He marked your neck, your shoulders, your breasts'.

“Need-need this Bucky” You cried out, feeling pressure and tightness growing through your body, your orgasm desperate to spill over. He grunted, his balls growing heavy, his own climax at the tip of his cock.

How could you think of letting someone else have you this way.

To have you so vulnerable, hearing how beautiful you sounded when you were lost in pleasure.

How could you think of wearing another mans right? Taking his last name?

How the fuck could you think of carrying another mans child, giving birth to his babies, having a family with someone that wasn’t him.

How could you.

Bucky’s mind felt muddled, he felt sick at the thought of you belonging to someone else, not when you had him. Not when he could give you what you wanted. He couldn’t push away the thought of how you’d look if you were carrying his babies. The way your tummy would be so round. How tired you’d look, a little super soldier baby growing inside you.

The way you’d be pouty, your breasts leaking, your swollen belly perfect evidence that you belonged to him. No one would look at you twice, knowing who your baby daddy is. Who would dare look at the pretty thing the winter solider knocked up, thinking twice before they even looked your way.

Fuck, you’d look so perfect, pregnant with his baby. He’d take such good care of you, massaging your sore feet, rubbing your belly, doting on you every second of the day. He’d spend hours worshipping your pussy with his mouth, knowing you wouldn’t even be able to see him over the swell of your tummy but your satisfied moans would be more than enough for him. He’d carry you everywhere, treat you like a queen, make love to you, drink your sweet milk when you felt heavy and sore, you be all of his-

“F-FUCK I’M CUMMING” Bucky bit hard onto your shoulder, moaning loudly as he started to cum, thoughts of your leaking nipples and firm belly making his whole body jolt, his cock sensitive, spurts of his seed endlessly pouring into you. “Y/n, look at me” He panted, still rutting his cock into you while your eyes rolled back into a silent scream, cumming around his throbbing length.

“Look at me” He grasped your cheeks, making you look at him, sweat beading at his forehead, his skin flushed “I’m gonna get you pregnant” You gasped, moaning against his mouth as he continued to sloppily grind into you, his cock still some how hard. “You’re all mine, understand?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough, his grip on your cheeks tightened, desperate to hear your voice.

“Say it” He pleaded with you, panting and grunting, overstimulated but too deep in wanting to fill you again to care.

“I-I’m yours James!” You could feel pleasure creep up you again, working yourself up to a second high just off his words alone.

“Keep saying it, keeping saying it, m’gonna cum again, don’t fuckin stop, keep telling me” He almost sounded like he was going to cry, his balls throbbing, still full and heavy.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, get-get me pregnant daddy”

“FUCK YES” That did it, his second orgasm spilling into you, his cock finally starting to soften. You panted, your mind reeling over the what had just happened, too fucked out to formulate words. He had taken you apart, cumming in you twice, his seed still deep inside you as he stayed inside you, slowly drifting off to sleep. As much as you wanted to ask him about what had just happened, you figured it was just the heat of the moment. You melted into his hold, letting sleep take over instead, what just happened wasn’t a big deal anyway....

*****

You blinked awake, heat engulfing you, Bucky’s arms wrapped around your body keeping you tightly and securely right against him. You squirmed, only to feel him hug you closer, whining, as if you’d disappear if he let go. You tried to gently wiggle free, not wanting to deal with the fact that you’d stayed the night, but your attempts to leave only woke him up. You blinked at his soft blue eyes gazing down at you, his strong arms still clinging onto you like no tomorrow.

“Bu-

You were cut off by his lip smashing onto yours in a breathe stealing kiss, your eyes growing wide before melting and kissing him back. You both reluctantly broke away for oxygen, your face heating up as he tucked your hair behind your ear, still holding you close.

“Stay”

“But-”

He rolled over, pinning you down onto the bed, his hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Stay, please” All Bucky could think about was your words from last night, the thought of anyone else other than him having you making him sick. He needed it again. Needed more. Wanting the same passion from the night before, his heart yearning and aching for it. “Y/, doll please”

You shook your head, a sudden surge of anger fueling you when you remembered he wasn’t even yours and his heart was elsewhere.

“James, let me go-

“No” He stayed in place, bringing his hands to lace with yours, pinning you further, “Doll, I know I have no right but-but I need you”

“You had me last night, that’s all you need anyway” You scoffed, while he shook his head, regret clouding his eyes.

“No baby, it’s not enough. It was never enough. It’s always been you”

“James, you were just trying to get back with your ex-

“It was a mistake. I learnt that the same day I met her. There wasn’t anything between us, truthfully there never was. I guess I remembered things differently from how they actually were. A stupid memory that never even existed. She never made me feel the same way you did. Not even close”

You stayed silent, while Bucky continued to nervously ramble, his feelings coming out scrambled, fear making it difficult for him to focus. He couldn’t lose you. He adored you. Needed you. Couldn't stand the thought of someone else other than him being by your side.

“It’s all you baby, always all you” He whispered, giving you his best puppy eyes, his heart hammering against his chest. You spread your legs slightly, letting his cock rest against your core, your nose bumping against his.

“Show me you mean it” You whispered against his lips, gasping as he filled you, moving slowly so you could feel every bit of him. Him. The only person you truly every wanted. The person you imagined your future with. The person you wanted it all with.

“M’gonna show you for the rest of my life doll”

A few years later

You yawned, handing off your little one to Bucky, giving him a quick kiss before he was carried off to bed. Bucky rocked his son in his arms for a moment before setting him down in his bed, kissing him goodnight before switching the night light on. He made his way back to the bedroom, his heart swelling when his eyes settle on you, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“How are my babies” Bucky smiled, laying in front of you and pulling your shirt up over your swollen belly, his two little angels fluttering inside.

“Kicking and causing a ruckus, just like you a Steve” You huffed, giggling when he laid his head on your tummy, kissing the area where he felt the little ones moving.

“Let mama sleep” He soothed, rubbing your skin, smiling when he felt the babies settle down. “Be good for mommy, she’s sleepy, carrying you both around all day, keeping you warm and cozy”

Bucky continued to coo and whisper to your belly, lulling you in and out of sleep, listening to his soothing voice. He had done the same thing when you first son Steve Grant Barnes Jr. was born, doting on you every second of the day. You had sworn you needed time to recuperate, exhausted from carrying his enhanced little one though both of you struggled to keep your hands to yourselves.

“You just had to get me pregnant with twins, didn’t you” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him, gently stroking his hair while he continued to cuddle with your tummy. Bucky grinned, taking your hand and kissing your palm, the ring on your finger glinting softly under the glow of the table lamp.

“Not my fault, you were the one who had your hands down my pants when we got back from that mission. I didn’t hear you complain when I made you cum three times in a row” He wiggled his eyebrows while your face heated up, biting your lip, remembering the way he had taken you apart in the jet, the safe house and then your home, the both of you insatiable as always, “Aren’t you lucky your husband fucks you like I did, Mrs. Barnes”

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skipper1331 · 1 month

Text

Loyalty and Love // Leah Williamson

warnings: dead family member

Leah was a gooner through and through, never been seen in a different club jersey than the arsenals as she was Arsenals biggest fan.

She went through all the youth team stages until she reached the senior team. Her body was full of loyalty to the club while your career path was very different - something Leah did not like about you.

Your career started at your hometown club near Bavaria, Germany, until FC Bayern München became aware of you. You were the only girl in the league and still scored the most goals. So to be fair, your actual club career started at the FC Bayern academy. You started there at the age of 10 and played there until the age of 16.

At 16 years old, you said good bye to Germany and played for Ajax in the Netherlands. You played two years for them and enjoyed every second with the Ajax family, yet after those two years, you transferred to AS Roma. You had many transfer offers, inside the league and outside of it but even though, you had transferred a few times already, you had one rule: never play in the same league with a different club. Roma sent you on loan to Olympique Lyon where you won the champions league and the league, each time as a key player of the team. OL offered you a real contract which you gladly signed - winning the treble. After three years in France, where you had learned a lot technical stuff but also had developed further as a person, it was time for a new challenge. A new club and country.

Spain was calling, FC Barcelona to be exact. After a teary good bye, you left for good - it was time to shine at Barcelona.

Your talent was magical, you could score from every angle, no matter the position and the fans loved you.

You had been nominated for numerous awards, won many of them yet still you were the kindest person. You always made time for the fans, signed jerseys, took photos and chatted with them. You were down-to-earth.

Of course you had haters, people not liking your volatility but you didn‘t care. You had a mission and would continue it, no matter if you had no fan at all or a the whole woso community behind you. So while your job was to score goals, you only had one goal in mind.

You loved the Spanish weather, you loved the City, you loved the girls. They made Barcelona your home and more than that. Playing alongside Alexia, Mapi, CGH, Aitana and literally every one on the squad was amazing. It was the way they played and the mentality they had that fascinated you.

The first season at Barcelona was the season you won the Ballon D‘or, while still being so young. The combination of the playing style that you learned in the individual clubs in each country also made you Fifas the best. You were the best.

On the pitch, every opponent was afraid of you while off pitch they adored you. It broke your heart to leave Barcelona, the City you adored. So why did you leave? It was the thing you had to do. The thing you promised yourself at the age of 16 when you left Bayern - Arsenal would be your last stop ever. The thing you promised someone. Your retirement club, you would stay there forever - as long as they offered you a contract.

While everybody had greeted you with open arms at your arrival, the skipper kept her distance, only talking to you when necessary. Leah was skeptical to say at least, some things bothered her about you. She didn‘t appreciate your transfers nor respected them. Every country? Really? Why Arsenal? Her childhood club? How long did you want to play here before you stab the team in the back? When another country became interesting? Maybe the US? Sweden?

And then the tape. The strip of tape on your shoulder, it didn‘t make any sense to her. It didn‘t seem like you had problems with your shoulder nor an injury in the last few years (which she had obviously checked) so why the tape? She - well actually everyone, never saw you without. When it slowly started to look rancid, the next second it looked like new again. When you changed, even in the shower after playing it was always there. Were you hiding something?

Leah didn‘t like you, it was clear as the day but (even if she would never admit it out loud) you were a fantastic footballer. Your feet could do magic with the ball, from assisting to scoring to defending, everything you did on the pitch was faboulous. That, she had to appreciate, maybe you would help Arsenal to win the league.

This season. who knows how long you‘ll stay.

After your first month with the gunners, you knew for sure, your heart and brain realized it for the first time: after years, you had finally fulfilled your promise.

You felt peace, nothing more. Maybe you could forgive yourself someday.

Over time, Leah‘s dislike towards you turned into much more - hate. When you were near the blonde, she would glare at you or leave the room,

the moments you tried to talk to her, to get to know her, she ignored you and

she would rudely comment on the things you said.

After months of trying, you just stopped. If she doesn‘t want to talk to you that‘s okay. You didn’t have to be friends - colleagues, that‘s it.

"When I visited Greece-" you started to tell Lia about the beauty of the country when her work wife cut you off, "wow, Y/L/N, a country you didn‘t play in, really respectable" Leah spat, rolling her eyes. Lia smacked the back of her head, her behavior unbelievable.

It was no secret that the defender felt some sort of dislike towards you - noticeable for your team mates and especially for the swiss as she knew Leah like the back of her hand.

"Ignore her" the midfielder stated, asking you to continue your story.

"It‘s fine" not in the mood to tell the end of your Greece-story, you left the two LW‘s joining Vic as she juggled with the ball.

"You really need to stop that" the swiss international grumbled, "she‘s actually really nice"

"And her loyalty sucks! I won’t let her ruin this club"

The brunette watched the blonde march away, arms crossed.

Leah‘s behavior continued like that, rude comments sent your way, cut off mid sentence and ignorance accompanied you every single day. But your mindset was clear: you couldn’t be bothered by her.

You understood that Leah was skeptical of you, you‘re new and played for several clubs but on the pitch you played your absolute best each game. You deserved at least some respect.

"Where‘s hopper?" Leah asked - you’re never late. Her new nickname for you showed her antipathy towards you yet hiding it well enough, so other people outside of the team wouldn’t get suspicious.

"She‘s on her way home for a few days" Lia replied calmly, not wanting the blonde to explode.

You had texted Lia about your plans earlier this morning - she was your friend after all. Just because she was great friends with Leah, didn‘t mean you couldn’t be friends with her too. Like I said, you were friends with the whole team, just not with Leah. Besides you enjoyed talking to Wally as it was in your mother tongue, conversation flowing with an ease.

"What the fuck?! She does know we‘re playing a derby this weekend!" The England captain growled, marching out of the changing room, already calling you. Who do you think you were?

Her calls went straight to voicemail which only angered and frustrated her more. why were you so infuriating?

The defender was quick to approach to Jonas - what was the thinking letting you leave? Did he even know about this?

"Why did you let her leave?!" the woman asked loudly and harshly. You made her blood boil. "Is she playing on Saturday? You should kick her out of the squad! This behavior is unacceptable" she scolded.

Even though Leah knew the team would need you, she was too caught up in her anger.

"Who are you talking about?" the coach asked rather confused. Was he missing something?

"Your new signing" she huffed out frustrated, how can he be this clueless?

"She‘s not here. Apparently at home in Germany, did you know about this?"

"Oh! Yes, I know about this. It‘s in her contract"

"What do you mean? In her contract?"

"She‘s allowed to leave, no matter what day, at-" he looked at his watch, checking the date, "at the 20th of March for three days. One day to get there, one day to stay, one day to leave" he explained.

"Why?"

"I can’t tell you that"

On game day, you arrived on time at the stadium, your favourite defender already impatiently waiting for you in the locker room. When you entered the room, she was about to stomp over, telling you how your behavior was unacceptable and jeopardizing the team but something told her not to. Your shoulders were sagged, your eyes red and puffy as you had bags under them ad well - it looked like you had been crying for awhile and not sleeping either. You looked small and sad, but not the sadness-sad, somehow it looked like grieving-sad or guilty-sad. Leah didn't know if her analysis was correct, after all, she didn't know you as you weren’t friends - not even close to that - and to the others it seemed like you were your usual self.

As you walked past her to get to your cubby, she grabbed your hand. "Are you okay?" she asked, genuinely concerned about your well-being. Her stone cold persona towards you was gone for the moment, eyes scanning your face - what was wrong? How can she help you?

"I‘m fine, Leah"

Her hand had a firm grip on yours yet it was so gentle and soft - it was almost like you could feel her 'caring' about you.

But you knew, she only cared about the team and not about you.

"Thank you for asking, though" you smiled a bit, before leaving her touch and walking over to your cubby.

You didn't want to be rude to her because it seemed like she was dead serious about her question. Besides, if you wanted to have at least a somewhat normal work-relationship with her, this might was a step in the right direction.

However, you had to admit, the feeling of her holding your hand was quite nice and made you hope for eventually being friends one day.

The game started with you on the bench as agreed with Jonas. It was his decision if he wanted to put you in or not and you respected either way. You were thankful enough that he had shown so much understanding about your family situation, so you wouldn’t be the one to complain about not playing.

Next to you on the bench sat the one and only Leah Williamson, who watched the game very carefully, attentively and critically - the same as you did. In your heads, the two of you analyzed what happened on the field, every bad pass, every unused space or loss of the ball was noted while you tried to come up with solutions. While Leah stated her analysis to everyone at half time, you talked to the relevant person what they should pay particular attention to - most opponents had the same playing style, even if the tactics were changed. Overall, it wasn't the played game in general that mattered, but rather the individual players on the field. If you watched them long enough, it wasn't too difficult to outplay them and their team - Leah and you knew that.

Both of you got subbed on in the 74th minute, the defender doing her job brilliantly while you ran down the wing. The game seemed like it had shifted as soon as the two of you took in your positions. Chances were created, space was used, passed connected perfectly - in all honestly, Tottenham didn‘t have any control over the match anymore, thanks to Leah and your critical eyes.

The score changed when Leah sent a ball flying towards you. With one quick motion, you dribbled around the defender, firing a shot on goal - Tottenhams goalkeeper stood no chance.

That evening a special chemistry was born between your favourite defender and her favourite hopper.

If you were hoping that the 'how are you' question meant something, you were wrong.

Her arrogant attitude got worse, as did her mean behavior towards you. You thought that maybe, just maybe, the link up on the pitch earned you enough respect that she at least refrains from commenting. Yet she questioned everything you did and not only that: you were regularly asked whether you would leave the club at the end of the season or whether you would leave one season after that. At this point you felt helpless, you didn’t know what her problem was with you - she seemed like a nice person towards everyone else.

"Come on, Leah, leave me alone" you grumbled as she stood next to you in the locker room with her arms crossed. Especially today she was getting on your last nerve. You hadn‘t slept well the last few days and the bickering was getting more and more exhausting.

"You weren‘t concentrated today" she stated, "this isn‘t acceptable at Arsenal."

"Leah-" Wally tried to stop her but there was no chance. She wouldn’t hold back.

"No, she has to know. She‘s played at enough clubs to know that she has to give 100%!"

"As if you haven‘t had a bad day before"

"I can keep things professional"

"No you can‘t! If you could, you would leave me the fuck alone. You are all judgy but never played somewhere else than Arsenal, so get a fucking grip. At least I have the experience of other leagues"

The whole changing room gasped, Katie smirking, happy that you stood your ground. Leah’s behavior was ridiculous. And this time she took it too far.

On an emotional level, your week had been absolutely shitty.

It‘s like a haunted house, only you‘re the ghost.

On an physical level, you were exhausted.

So, neither emotionally nor physically you could deal with her at the moment.

"Watch your mouth-" the defender started before you cut her off.

"No, you will watch yours" your pointer finger angrily poked her chest, "Listen to me closely, I will not repeat myself. You, Leah Williamson, will stay away from me. I‘m not your friend, I’m not your mate, I’m your colleague, so treat me with damn respect" with that you grabbed your stuff and left.

Leah was breathing heavily, your anger awfully attractive.

"Why are you being like this?" McCabe asked, the girls in the room waiting for an answer. This couldn’t be just because you played for several clubs and she was questioning your loyalty - there had to be more.

"Because she‘s hiding something! I won‘t let her ruin this club" she growled, sitting down in her cubby.

"What should she be hiding?" Steph questioned, you seemed like an honest and truthful person.

"She literally left for three days out of nowhere!"

"She did that when we played at Barca together too" Laia added. She had never thought about that before. But Leah was right, it was unusual to not show up at training when you weren‘t injured or sick, especially since it was in the middle of the season.

"See!"

"I still don’t see the problem" Steph shrugged her shoulders, "she‘s a lovely person and you would know that if you gave her the chance to show it" with that the Australian left. You were such a lovely girl, at least someone had to defend you. Partly, Steph could understand where Leah was coming from - that girl was bleeding Arsenal red.

After Steph had left, the other girls started to leave too, Leah and Kim the only ones left.

Leah was sorting through her bag, checking if she had everything she needed when Kim broke the silence, "Her brother died when she was 16. The 21st of March is the day of his death"

Leah stopped her movements, "what?" she turned around, the colour leaving her face.

"That’s all I know"

Kim grabbed her bag, walking past the blonde, about to leave, "I’m disappointed in you, Leah. We're a family here, and you didn't show her that. Have you ever thought about why she played in every league? You’re criticizing but not questioning. You doubt her loyalty, but she hasn't transferred within the league - doesn't that show her respect for the club she‘s played at?"

"Kim-"

"Have a nice evening"

Alone in the changing room, Leah tried to process the information, now it made sense that you were at home for a few days. It was his anniversary.

She had been a complete ass to you without knowing your story - she still didn't. However, for the first time she felt something like interest. She wanted to get to know you. She wanted to know your story. But most of all she wanted to apologize. You seemed like a sweet girl.

Of course, most of her questions were still unanswered: the tape? Why did you transfer so much? You‘re young.. but for the first time she didn't care. She fucked up and was determined to start over.

I‘m disappointed in you, Leah.

At home, the defender sat on her couch, eating some food while the tv was showing her favourite show. This wasn’t right. She couldn’t wait till tomorrow. She had to talk to. Now.

Leaving her food on the table, the blonde called Lia, asking where you lived. The Swiss was hesitant to tell her as she wanted to protect you but Leah sounded genuinely upset about her own behavior.

"Please.. I- I‘m in the wrong here, I know that now. I don‘t want her to go to bed angry or feeling like she‘s not a part of the Arsenal family."

After that, the Swiss texted your address, the England captain already on her way.

When she arrived at her destination, she felt nervous. She rang the bell, hoping you wouldn’t open. She wasn‘t prepared at all - she didn’t know what to say or how to make things up with you.

In that moment, she realized maybe it was a hasty decision to just show up in front of your door and apologize. It wouldn’t be deserved to accept the apology straightaway.

"Leah?" you said surprised.

"Hopper" it was almost inaudible as you had knocked the air out of her lungs. You looked breathtaking. No, it wasn‘t something fancy - you wore an oversized shirt and some shorts while your hair was down but you looked naturally beautiful.

"What are you doing here? I told you to leave me alone"

"I- um.. I came to apologize?"

"Are you asking me that?"

"I came to apologize"

"Go home, Leah-"

"Give me a chance-"

"No. Look, I don’t know why you are here or what your problem is but I don‘t want to play your sick games" you stepped back, closing the door, leaving the defender dumbfounded in front of your home.

"I know about you brother!" she called, helpless on what do to. But as soon as the word 'brother' left her mouth, she regretted it.

The door was thrown open, "what did you just say?!" you were angrier than ever. Your family had always been a sensitive subject.

"I know about your brother" the audacity Leah had to repeat her words was unbelievable.

She squeezed herself inside, looking around.

"I swear to god, if you don‘t leave-"

"I‘m really sorry" she turned around, you didn‘t know if she was talking about your brother or how she had treated you and neither did she. Either way, it made you furios, you were balling your hands into fists, trying to stay calm.

"Is that him?" she asked, walking to the picture frame on your shelf, "what‘s his name?"

It was a picture of the two of you as kids, both of you wearing Germany jerseys as you grinned in the camera - one of your favourite pictures.

And that made you explode. How dare she come to your home, implying to apologize which she wasn‘t and then act nosy.

You marched over, grabbing her at the collar of her shirt and pushing her against the wall, "leave me alone" you weren’t shouting but you voice was loud, clear and firm, almost intimidating.

Her breath hitched, "I can‘t" you were so close to her. She could see all tiny freckles, those which only appeared when you were in the sun. She was intrigued by you. Her eyes darted around your features, the wrinkle between your brows slowly disappearing.

You didn‘t know what came over you, but in less than a second, you smashed your lips against hers. Teeth were clashing, all anger and frustration purred in, hands gripping and pulling as both of your minds went blank. Neither of you could think about anything else but each other.

The day she stood in front of your apartment, wasn’t brought up again yet you had to admit something shifted in your dynamic that night.

The chemistry you had on the pitch only grew, Leah assisted while you scored countless of goals.

Her behavior wasn‘t as bad as before anymore, she started to greet you, say good bye or other acts of kindness yet every once in a while a snarky comments left her mouth.

After Arsenal had won the conti cup against Chelsea, the celebrations were on the rise when you entered the club. You saw some girls dancing around, some lingering at the bar and others sitting at the table.

You joined the girls at the table, sitting down next to Stina. Lost in conversation with the Swede you didn‘t notice a blonde defender standing right behind you with her arms crossed and a pout on her face, "you‘re sitting on my seat, hopper" she grumbled, the pout increasing.

"Sit somewhere else" you replied, not looking up as you continued your conversation which had been rudely cut off by the English woman.

"There is no seat left"

This time you turned around, looking up from your seat as the defender glared at you.

It was the first time, you had seen her tonight and she looked absolutely gorgeous with the outfit she was wearing.

"I think you‘re old enough to deal with that, aren‘t you?" you smiled sarcastically at her, once again turning to Stina.

"I am" she stated, a smug smile plastered on her face. With the alcohol in her system, she simply sat on your lap, one arm going around your shoulders while she started her own conversation. Weirdly confused but somehow not minding, you let her be, your arms going around her waist to support her. No one said anything about, most of them not realizing what was happening or simply not caring - as long as you weren‘t fighting everything seemed fine.

The night continued like that, chatting, dancing and enjoying the time.

"Could you let me get up, please? I‘d like to have another drink" you asked the defender who immediately got up, "can you bring one for me too?"

"Sure"

She smiled shyly before you left, sitting back down, Lia looking at her with a 'tell me right now what‘s going on' expression.

"What?"

"Seriously? What‘s going on between the two of you?" the Swiss asked, Leah‘s eyes already back on you as you stood at the bar, ordering.

"Nothing"

The defender’s brows furrowed when a man approached you, standing way too close to you, her jaw clenching.

She saw you taking a step to the side, intending to signal the man that you were not interested. In responds, he only stepped closer.

Angrily, the blonde stood up, marching over, "is everything alright here?" her hands settled on your waist, pulling you protectively towards her.

"Everything‘s alright, mate" the man slurred, stepping forward, "I’m just getting to know your friend."

Leah was quick to step in front of you, her hand holding onto you to know you‘re safe, "leave my girlfriend alone or I will break your nose" she threatened.

The man held his hands in surrender before he left.

In an instant, she turned around, cupping your cheeks, checking if you were alright.

"I‘m okay" you stated. What just happened? Girlfriend? Weird man? Break his nose? Girlfriend?

"Here‘s your drink"

She took her drink, resting her hand on the small of your back, guiding you back to the table.

What‘s just happened?

Lia was the only one left at the table while the others had joined the dancers. You were about to sit down on an empty chair when the blonde pulled you on her lap - roles reversed.

Raising an brow, "There are enough empty seats this time"

"I don’t care, hopper"

"I‘ll join the rest on the dancing floor" Wally said, winking at Leah whose cheeks turned red.

"You‘re so beautiful, you know" the England captain said, cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

"How many drinks did you have?" you giggled, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along the back of neck. "Not enough to punch that guy" she growled.

You laughed, "you‘re cute when you‘re jealous" not so sober yourself.

She squeezed your hips in responds, resting her head on your shoulder.

Both of you enjoyed the silence that came over you, also enjoying the closeness you shared in that moment. Leah wasn‘t forgiven and she knew that yet she couldn’t stay away from you. Somehow you were addicting.

For once, it was nice not to argue with the blonde but to enjoy her company. She was cute, you couldn’t lie.

"I‘m very sorry for my behavior" she whispered, "I’d like to start over again" you turned towards her, eyes locking, "I’m not asking for your forgiveness, just for a chance to show you that I’m not an awful person. You are a part of the Arsenal family and I’m sorry for treating you otherwise"

You let her words sink in. She was right, she couldn’t ask for your forgiveness because too much had happened already but starting over seemed like an opportunity for the both of you.

"I’m Y/N"

The next weeks, Leah was the sweetest person to you. Each morning, she greeted you with the widest smile and when she left the facility, she always made sure to tell you good bye. She treated you with respect and listened to everything you had to say. She was amazed by the stuff you had to say. She couldn’t care less if it was something as simple as your favourite colour or an opinion on something. Everything you said was important to her.

Soon the small talks turned into longer conversations until they were endless.

In matches, when somebody fouled you Leah was the first to stick up for you, arguing with the opponent before she argued with the ref (of course after she had made sure you were okay.)

Slowly but surely, Leah earned your trust and appreciation.

She wasn‘t just anybody - she was Leah Williamson and once she had set her mind, you couldn’t stop her from doing it.

She wasn‘t the Leah you had met at your arrival - she changed for good. She was much more. She was funny, loving and caring, attentive and respectful - she was actually an amazing woman and your friend.

Standing in the kitchen of Leah’s apartment, you made dinner for the both of you while she sat on the counter watching you and eating the ingredients.

The atmosphere was tranquil and relaxed as music filled the background.

Peace.

"His name‘s Sebastian" you turned around, grabbing another ingredient out of the fridge while you avoided Leah‘s eyes, painful stings in your heart. You wouldn‘t cry, not now. "He‘s three years older than me" you inhaled sharply, trying to compose yourself as you continued to cook. "You would have loved him, he was a big Arsenal fan, watched every match" you chuckled, "but was the worst player of all time. He never really was a sports guy anyway, he was rather the calm type of person. He loved to cook - that‘s actually one of his favourite recipes" you nodded your head towards the food splayed out on the counter.

The dish you were making had brought you so much comfort after his death. It felt familiar. Sometimes, you imagined him standing in the kitchen, so concentrated that his brows would furrow as he cut the vegetables or when he seasoned - never a drop too much. He was very particular when it came to cooking, but rightly so, because when he did it, it always tasted absolutely perfect.

"He used to be my best friend"

Your heart broke into pieces saying it out loud. He wasn‘t just anybody - he was your brother, the only man you ever loved and him more than anyone.

The two of you had a special bond, you basically owed him your entire career. Because it was him who kicked the ball around with you for hours,

because it was him who drove with you to training when your parents had to work,

because it was him who always watched your matches,

because it was him who always believed in you, even when you were on the verge of giving up.

He was your biggest supporter, the person who believed you could be the best footballer in the world one day and the one person who made sure that you had a life outside of football.

And even though you would have never shared your charger with him, you would have given him your lungs, so he could breathe.

"What happened to him?" Leah asked, her voice gentle, testing the waters if it was okay to ask or too much.

"When-" you closed your eyes, holding back the tears that were about to fall, "I was at a birthday party. At some point during the night I asked him to pick me up because I wasn't feeling well. He did it without hesitation. On the way home we- we got hit by a car and crashed into a tree. Both of us were conscious but he was coughing and bleeding very badly. It looked very bad. I prayed to every god I knew that they should take me and not him- they didn‘t listen" tears were streaming down your face as you aggressively cut the remaining vegetables, "his last words were 'make me proud' and i remember shouting at him but it was too late. I told him I loved him- he took his last breath with a smile on his face"

Silence filled the room, small sniffles the only thing being heard. You grabbed a tissue, blowing your nose and another one to dry your tears, "I am- was blaming myself for what happened, so I left home as soon as I could"

Leah was listening carefully, her heart aching seeing you in pain and the pain you had been through.

"I always complained about others leagues, because they seemed so easy and everything" you chuckled at the memory, "and he always was like 'you can‘t complain if you haven‘t played there'" mocking him, the most german accent in your voice, "so that’s what I did. I have played in several leagues but I always knew Arsenal would be my last stop"

Everything made sense now, Leah‘s heart broke even more, realizing what an absolute ass she was while you only had one goal in mind - to make him proud.

It was never your plan to ruin Arsenal, you wanted to stay there to fulfill the promise you had made in the night that changed your life.

Leah saw you with different eyes now, her heart was beating for you in more than one way. She admired you - for the way you play, how strong you are and how hard life had been for you yet still smiling throughout it.

She had to protect the ray of sunshine and the feisty beast you could be. You weren‘t just anybody - you were Y/N Y/L/N, the best footballer in the world.

The defender was a 100% sure, your brother would be more than proud of you and the woman you became.

But she also knew what she had to do. You deserved an apology, even more than that - you deserved every good thing in the world. And if she could she would take all your pain away.

It was in the middle of the night, all lights turned off besides in the kitchen of the blonde defender. She sat at the kitchen table, one sheet of paper and a fountain pen in front of her.

Dear Sebastian,

I’m Leah, Leah Williamson.

I've been playing for Arsenal my whole life. I've had my best and worst moments at the club. All of my best moments had to do with my team, my friends, my family, whereas my worst moments had something to do with my performance or injuries. Unfortunately, because of my loyalty and love for the club, I was blinded from seeing the important things - your sister. I never understood why she had transferred so often - it seemed like she was volatile and didn't understand loyalty and love. But she does - she does that more than anyone else.

Her loyalty was only ever dedicated to you.

She is an incredible person and I’m so sorry for the way i treated her at her arrival (I will tell her that, this time when I’m fully sober and explain everything). But I’m writing you to tell you that I like your sister, more than I ever thought I would. To be honest, that‘s the first time I’m admitting it to someone, I didn‘t even admit it fully to myself - but I do. I like her. And I guess, this is me asking for your blessing.

A blessing that I can treat her right if she lets me,

a blessing that I can always support her,

a blessing for one chance with her.

I know, there is much too make up for and my behavior will never be excused - no apology could be strong enough for what I have done - but I want you to know that I will regret it till the rest of my life.

So while you may be her biggest fan from paradise, I want to be her biggest fan from earth.

I promise to do everything in my power to be the best person she deserves.

Sincerely,

Leah Williamson

With a lighter in her pocket and the letter in her hand, she went outside on the balcony. The night was chill and quiet, the perfect atmosphere as the moon shone brightly. Her nerves were calming down and her mind seemed to find rest as she looked up in the sky, "one chance" she whispered, burning the letter. She watched the ink and paper slowly disappear, the smoke rising into the night sky. She knew it was unrealistic to expect any sign of positive responds but was it wrong to hope? When the letter was fully burned, she waited till the smoke was completely gone before she went back inside, turning off the kitchen light and making her way to bed.

When the blonde woke up the next day, she made her way to kitchen immediately, needing her morning tea. She frowned and froze.

"Hello?" she called.

No response.

She had turned off the light last night, didn‘t she?

She sure did!

Was this her sign? Was this the sign that the letter arrived?

It was his blessing.

"Hey" the blonde greeted you with a wide smile when you entered the changing room.

Matching her smile, "good morning" you walked to your cubby.

"What are you doing tonight?" she followed you, the smile not leaving her features. Someone woke up in a good mood, you thought.

"Going home, eating, then sleeping" you replied.

"Do you want to watch the Arsenals men game tonight? With me?"

"Are you nervous?" you asked, the defender fidgeting with her fingers as her cheeks were slowly turning red, "I’d love to watch the match with you."

And if you thought her smile couldn’t have gotten wider, you were wrong - the smile she sent you was from ear to ear.

"Perfect" with excitement in her body, she pressed a peck to your cheek before she happily skipped out of the room, the other girls watching the interaction that just happened closely.

"Are you blushing?" Katie laughed loudly as you embarrassingly turned to your bag, in fact blushing.

Half an hour before kick-off you rang Leah‘s doorbell, takeout in your hands. You weren‘t in the mood for cooking and Leah‘s cooking skill were eh, e for effort?, also you had been craving Chinese all day long, so that‘s what you got.

"I brought food with me!" you grinned, pushing yourself inside as soon as the blonde had opened the door.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she asked chuckling at your eagerness as you walked in her kitchen to get some plates and cutlery.

Cheekily, you replied "Nothing, I was just hungry"

Serving the food on the plates, you sat down at the table with Leah, comfortable silence filling the air while the two of you ate dinner.

Something was bothering Leah though, you could tell. Every now and then it seemed like she wanted to say something yet she closed her mouth quickly after.

"I‘m sorry for my behavior" she mumbled, "when you arrived at Arsenal, I mean" you looked up from your plate, meeting her eyes for a brief second, "I was skeptical about your loyalty and it got out of hand" carefully she laid her hand on yours, hoping you wouldn’t pull away.

You didn‘t - you wanted to hear what she had to say.

"I‘m really sorry and I know we started over, but I need you to know how sorry I am, this time without any drink in my system. You’re the most loyal person I know, I just didn‘t notice it"

"Leah" you said gently, "look at me, please"

The defender raised her head, looking at you with unsure eyes, rapidly tapping her foot under the table.

"Thank you for telling me. I guess I would have been skeptical too if I had played for the gunners my whole life" you told her, "I’m not excusing your behavior because it wasn‘t nice or appropriate but I don‘t have any bad blood against you either. In fact, I enjoy your company" you pulled her hand from hers, only to put it against her side profile, softly caressing the apple of her cheek.

Subconsciously, she leaned into your touch, "I‘m very sorry"

"I know"

The unspoken 'why' barrier was finally removed.

"Arsenal will win, I can feel it!" the defender stated, flopping down on the couch. With a bowl of popcorn in your hand, you sat down next to her, somehow your thighs touching even though the couch was big enough. "Liverpool is a tough opponent"

"Oh stop it! None of that"

Making herself comfortable on the couch, she turned on the tv, ready to see Arsenal win.

Getting comfortable yourself, you pulled your legs on the couch, leaning towards the armrest on the other side which earned you a glare, "what do think you‘re doing?"

"Oh, sorry" in an instant your feet were on the ground.

"No, what are you doing over there? Come here" she nodded to the space between her legs, signaling you to cuddle her.

With red cheeks and a racing heart, you crawled over, settling between her legs as your body melted into hers, head resting on her chest while her arms wrapped around you.

Leah was sure you could hear her racing heart and even though she desperately tried to concentrate on the match, she just couldn’t. With you in her arms, she wouldn’t ever want to think about anything else. You looked so precious in her arms, eyes fully focused on the tv.

"You are so beautiful" she admired, looking at you with heart eyes.

"What?"

You prompted yourself up, looking at the blonde who was smiling dazedly at you, "you are just so gorgeous" her fingers started to play with your hair as she got lost in your eyes, "let me take you on a date"

It was crazy how the mood had changed - from apologies at dinner to cuddling on the couch to asking you out.

"Okay" you smiled shyly, cheeks crimson red as your skin tingled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah"

You stared at each other, eyes shining with adoration and passion, both of you slowly leaning in.

When your lips met, the world seemed to stop spinning, fireworks exploding as you melted into each other and Arsenal getting themselves on the scoreboard. She kissed you so gentle and tender - the complete opposite of the kiss you had shared before.

Everything was perfect.

After many many dates, the blonde asked you to be her girlfriend. None of your friends surprised at this point - you had always been obsessed with each other.

The two of you had been caught kissing several times, not even trying to hide it. Leah loved kissing you but she also loved physical touch in general, always holding your hand, having her arm around your midsection or her hand on your thigh while driving. She couldn’t get enough of you.

"Come to bed" the blonde whined, waiting for you to join her under the covers. Weirdly, neither of you could sleep good at night without being in each others embrace, so it became your routine - either Leah would sleep at your home or the other way around - this night you were at Leah‘s, and obviously you had stolen a shirt from her wardrobe as your pajamas - which she liked very much. You looked so cute in her clothes.

When you joined her, her arms were immediately wrapped around your body as she pulled you close, pressing a good night kiss on your temple.

The next morning, you woke up with hair in your face and a head resting on your chest, the blonde defender still peacefully asleep. You stayed like that for awhile, your hand gently rubbing her back before you slipped out of bed, ready to make some breakfast and your much needed coffee.

Since it was the weekend and your day off, you decided to surprise the England captain with some self made pancakes - you knew she loved them.

While Leah woke up due the feeling of your absence which turned out to be correct, something she didn‘t like. Sleeping without you was awful already but waking up without you? absolutely horrible.

Grumpily, she made her way out of the bedroom, the smell of pancakes hitting her nostrils, lightening her mood in an instant. Following the smell, she found you in the kitchen, only wearing a sports bra and some of her old Arsenal shorts - you looked cute - booping your head to the non existing music, no doubt that you were humming some song. Silently, the defender walked up behind you, her arms smacking around your stomach, "gosh, you scared me!"

"Sorry, baby" apologetic, she pressed multiple kisses on the side of your neck, fingers tracing along your sides.

You inhaled sharply when she traced along the stripe of tape on your shoulder, she had never brought it up before, respecting whatever story was behind it.

"You- you can take it off" you whispered breathlessly, anxiety and fear creeping through your body.

"Are you sure?" her lips kissed the other side of your shoulder, trying to calm you down and ease your mind.

"Yes, just- be careful, please"

and that’s exactly what she was. All of her moves were gentle and careful - you weren’t afraid that it would hurt pulling the tape off but the story behind it.

After the tape was ripped off a big scar was displayed on your shoulder, "it‘s from the car crash" you said, pain shooting through the healed wound. It wasn‘t an injury pain rather the type of phantom pain - suddenly you were back in the car.

"It‘s a constant reminder of what had happened - something that‘s my fault" you admitted, fighting the tears, "I started to cover it up but make up didn‘t work, so the physio at Ajax taped it. And since that day, I do it all the time"

Leah‘s heart broke at the vulnerability she was seeing, your posture seemingly weak and exposed.

"Is this okay?" Her pointer finger traced over the scar..

"Yeah"

..not in a way that made you uncomfortable but in a way that made you feel like you didn’t have to be ashamed of it.

"What about this?" for a moment you didn‘t feel her touch at all before she pressed featherlight kisses over your scar.

"yes"

Tears were streaming down your face, all of your walls broken down now, Leah made you feel perfect the way you are - because you are.

"I‘m proud of you"

Everything came crashing down, a sob escaped your throat and within a second, you were in your girlfriends arms, crying into her shoulder. The tears that you had not allowed to shed in previous years, fell all at once now.

The England captain hugged you through it all, letting you cry as long as you needed - she wouldn‘t go anywhere.

She had promised your brother to do everything in her power to be the best person you deserve and that‘s what she did, does and will do.

She kept her promise and you did too.

Arsenal was always half but never whole, Leah‘s begun to feel like home.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #leah williamson imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #arsenal women #lionesses #engwnt #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #steph catley #katie mccabe #woso image x reader #woso imagine #lia wälti

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kudossi · 9 months

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Tigerclaw and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Senior Warrior Position AU

In a world where deputies can only be named after their first apprentice has been granted their warrior name, Tigerclaw struggles to keep an apprentice alive long enough to earn their name.

or, a comedy-tragedy AU in which having an apprentice isn't enough — you have to see them to their warrior name, and Tigerclaw cannot fucking get any of his goddamn apprentices to live, damn it.

—

It starts out mostly normally, except for the fact that Tigerclaw hasn't gotten any apprentices to their warrior name, and he needs that so he can accomplish his (very noble, of course) kitty genocide goals. And also be the supreme leader of the world or something. Darkpaw died stupidly, he hasn't had a chance since, and now he's got some tiny thing that's afraid of his own shadow.

Well. It'll have to do.

So naturally this man is so protective over Ravenpaw that Ravenpaw barely even leaves his sight. Firepaw and Graypaw think that this is adorable. Look how much Tigerclaw cares about his apprentice!!

Ravenpaw, of course, is fucking terrified and also slowly losing his mind, just in a different way.

—

"Redtail assigned us to go on a patrol to Snakerocks." "OH NO HE DID NOT. WE'RE STAYING IN THE SANDY HOLLOW WHERE IT'S SAFE."

"Nothing matters more to me than making you a warrior, Ravenpaw. Nothing." And the terrible thing is that Ravenpaw is sure he's being sincere.

—

Ravenpaw disappears and Tigerclaw nearly fucking has a conniption because the timing was all RIGHT and he was going to finally get the position AND HE NEVER GOT HIS DAMN NAME FUCK.

"Do you think I could convince the elders that Fireheart was my apprentice?" "Fireheart was Bluestar's apprentice, as approved by StarClan. You're going to have to wait for the next litter to be apprenticed."

So he begs and begs and gets Cinderpaw and then she accidentally falls into the trap he'd set for a better deputy candidate at the Thunderpath. Fuck.

—

Well. Time to resort to drastic measures.

"I was thinking that Darkstripe would have been a good name. Because he had dark stripes." "Again, Tigerclaw, it's admirable that you loved your apprentice so much, but I cannot grant him a name." "Are you sure?" "Honestly, Tigerclaw, I'm not sure he ever would have gotten a name. Missing quite a few feathers from his nest, that one..." Fuck. The worst part was that she wasn't even wrong.

— Swiftpaw and Brightpaw get mauled by the dogs he set up to happen like right after he got the title and they sprang it before and he's like FUCK NOW WHAT DO I DO WITH THESE DAMN DOGS? His world domination plans literally never come to fruition because he cannot keep his apprentices alive/in the clan/his own.

— "Brightheart counts. She HAS to count." "Actually, Cloudtail took over her training…" [demented noises]

—

Turns out that Ravenpaw is alive and no one — no one — in the Harper Collins Extended Universe is happier than Tigerclaw.

"You're alive! …You deserve your warrior name!" "Actually, I've come to peace with my name and my way of life. I have no need for a—" "GET YOUR FUCKING NAME RIGHT NOW RAVENPAW OR SO HELP ME STARCLAN—" "I know you really wanted Ravenpaw to become a warrior," Barley says gently, "but he's made his decision. It's very kind of you to acknowledge that he deserves it, though. You must have been so close as mentor and apprentice." Tigerclaw's eye twitches. "Yes. Close. Very... close." —

He finally, finally retires as an elder after his plans go absolutely nowhere for years on end. And maybe StarClan is still like "Brambleclaw would be chill actually, we can forget that pesky little law" and Tigerclaw is sitting there like "excuse me what the actual fuck?" —

But at this point Tigerclaw is about as dangerous as Ashfur without a freak forest fire. Which is to say about as dangerous as using a leaf as a weapon. Which is, incidentally, how Darkpaw managed to get himself killed in the first place.

—

"Is this the Dark Forest? This has to be the Dark Forest. It doesn't look like Thistleclaw described it, but it must be. This Clan is all an elaborate punishment meted down by StarClan for my sins." "Tigerclaw, sir, I'm just here to help you with your ticks. See? I have the mousebile right here." "…Yes, thank you, Alderpaw." — Graystripe joins him in the elder's den and he's like, "You know, Ravenpaw thought you were up to some… scheme, back in the day. Crazy, right? You've been a model Clanmate as long as I've been alive." [muffled screaming] "Huh, what do you think that is? It sounds almost like someone killed a rabbit, but they know not to come this close to camp…"

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stealingyourbones · 5 months

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Submitted Prompts #145

*hands you a fox skull I found in the woods while walking to work*

You know the classic Tattoo Artist AU right?

Now imagine it's Everlasting Trio opening a tattoo parlor together.

They can all do a bit of everything, but Danny specializes in the actual tattoo art part of it, Tucker is their cashier and designer, and Sam does the piercings.

Then one day, in walks one Bruce Wayne, on his journey to learn how to Be Batman, coming to ask Maddie Fenton to teach him all she knows, and, in his downtime between training sessions, ends up being invited on several dates by her son and his awesome partners.

When he feels like he has learned all he could here, Bruce goes with a summoning sygil in his pocket, three new numbers on his phone he calls regularly, and several pieces of art on his body created by each one of the Trio.

Fun part of having the Ghost of Time owe you favors? You can ask him to put up a Time Out so you can visit your Beloved even when he's training with a group as dangerous as the League of Assassins.

Years later, and amidst moving shop to Gotham, Danny Sam and Tucker gets a phone call from a very panicked Bruce Wayne asking how to parent a suddenly-orphaned kid with anger issues.

Dick Grayson, orphan hell-bent on delivering Justice ( and some murder) to his parents' killer, wakes up to suddenly having 4 parents, a strict but loving grandpa, and a sister who's the very personification of Mischief (something something Ghost shenanigans. I'm thinking Ellie didn't age any further until her chronological age caught up with her biological age).

Gotham comes to learn two things then:

Bruce Wayne isn't the innocent prince everyone thinks he is, even if the Brucie persona still has them convinced he's a lucky himbo, if an adventurous one.

And

Stars have mercy on your soul if you go after Robin. Not much gets Phantom out of retirement, but hurting the little bird will get you a Very Angry Parent capable of delivering nightmares to the front step of your mind.

Unfortunately, because I'm a sucker for drama, Jason still dies, but Phantom and Batman are right behind him and holding him as he goes out, the angry screeching and sounds of violence on clownkind accompanying B's gentle affirmations of love (hey, what better way to make use of your kingly diplomatic immunity than to brutally murder another "diplomat" for hurting your son? :D ).

The Pit Rage gets Bad as it always does, but Talia can't get it into Jason's mind that Bruce abandoned him. How could she, when his last memories were of his parents delivering Justice and love in his name?

Red Hood doesn't last a day in Gotham. It was inevitable that someone would recognize him, but he really should've expected the literal ghost to recognize his soul and immediately launch himself at him screeching like a Stressed Parent Bird and alerting the rest of the polycule to the presence of their missing bird.

#dpxdc #bones submissions #Danny first seeing the Joker: im giving you your One Warning #Danny after the Joker kills little Jay: I see youve chosen Death #Danny's Stressed Parent instincts work a little morw gjoslty than human #so his first thought on seeing their missing baby is back was to skother him like a mother hen #his second is to Alert the Other Parents #Bill the Goon watching it happen: damn wish I had parents like that...

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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

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how would König react to a wifey who wants a dog so badly, that she’ll be on her best behavior and cuddle up to him and butter him up to get a dog. and even when he says no, she’s still begging him for one, crying and begging, even during sex when she’s bouncing on his cock she’s begging him for a puppy, she’ll do anything for a doggie !

Ah, he won't be opposed to getting a dog! Konig never had pets growing up, his father was way too strict, and the apartment wasn't really helping with any "manly and big" dog, so the theme of getting a puppy was never actually present. He will be very reluctant at first simply because he never had that experience, but he will see about that! He is a traditional bastard who is afraid that a small lapdog will somehow hurt his fragile masculinity, so he won't even think about getting you a small breed. Anything that is smaller than a German shepherd isn't a dog for him, so most likely, he will either get a puppy that was evicted from the K-9 program because of being too friendly and soft, or a retired military dog. Konig wants the dog to be able to protect you when he is not around - as paranoid as he is, you're still leaving the house sometimes, and the big scary dog will make it less likely for you to get kidnapped and dragged into the woods. Even if it's just a pup, he is talking to the poor lad like he can understand, instructing him to take care of Mrs.Konig - you're always laughing at both of them. It's literally "dad and a dog" situation because the pup is always running along with him, understanding the authority here. Konig will still make you beg for the dog though - he loves it when you're the one to initiate sex, and if letting you have a puppy is what it's going to take...he already found a perfect candidate, but he will keep you on your toes for a few weeks, just so you could be even more whiny and begging for him.

#cod #konig x reader #konig

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loviatarsluv · 24 days

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Request!

I posted details here, it’s for Gale!

https://www.tumblr.com/cherifrog/739699979425333248/anyone-else-interested-in-like-a-super-jealous

YUHHHHH now THIS is what im talkin about!!!!!!!

*cracks knuckles* lets get this party started shall we

(I am so sorry to be answering this literally a million years too late I’ve redone and rewritten this prompt like 100000 times but I finally like this version!!! so here we go!!!)

Gale x AFAB f!tav

rating: oh boy this one is certainly rated M for mature

CW: smut, inappropriate use of mage hand, rough sex, PiV, oral, gale being jealous and going absolutely FERAL

word count: 5.4k

let’s get itttt

If looks could kill, surely, Astarion would have been long dead— well, even more so— by now.

Gale was never exactly fond of the pale elf from the start, and he was well aware the feeling was likely incredibly mutual— but gods, he swore he was beginning to actually hate him.

At least, he hated the way he looked at her. The way he leered at her. The way he purred her name with that practiced and over-rehearsed seductive charm of his. The way he would lock piercing crimson eyes with Gale’s blazing umber ones as he cozied up to her at the fire with that deviant and knowing smirk on his stupid pointy face. The way she would smile at him the warmest, kindest, most hopelessly and adorably oblivious smile in response to the charlatan’s blatant advances.

Maybe he did hate him, upon further reflection. If only for the last reason alone.

Astarion would find any way to touch her and be able get away with it— his hand lingering on the small of her back as he passed her, touching her shoulder to get her attention, brushing hair out of her face when stray pieces fell over her eyes— all things that seemed innocent enough until you realized who was doing them and the devious smirk on his face when his gaze would meet that of the wizard that was surely plotting his second untimely demise.

Though, he could hardly blame him.

And Gale never got upset with her, of course, he knew it wasn’t her fault and honestly, he truly didn’t blame Astarion for wanting her— gods, who could possibly resist her?

Certainly not Gale, not even if he tried; and he had tried, to no avail. Yet that didn’t quell his frustration toward the silver haired and equally silver tongued vampire for attempting to swoop in on what was likely the first real chance at mortal love he’d had in a very long time.

He’d spent the early days in their adventure together absolutely beside himself with how taken he was by her nearly instantly. He felt like a smitten schoolboy all over again when he thought about the feeling of her soft but strong hands gripping his as she pulled him from the stone by the nautiloid crash with most impressive ease, the way she looked at him with wonder and curiosity, and even a flicker of something else that he recognized as attraction because he imagined it was mirrored in his own face at the sight of her.

It was then only worsened by the night that they channeled the weave together and the kiss she’d pictured them sharing— the way their limbs tangled and their lips pressed together softly, then passionately and fervently. Her fingers wrapped in his chestnut tresses and his hands gripping the fabric at her waist— that image will be burnt into the fabric of his mind forevermore, he’s certain.

Not to mention, the way her pupils dilated and her cheeks flared and flushed a heavenly shade of pink at the way he praised her as she successfully mimicked the incantation and his motions. It was enough to have him panting and attempting to tame the straining erection in his trousers when he retired to his tent that night.

He thought he’d mastered the art of managing to keep such thoughts like that at bay during his time of isolation as he tried to keep the orb sated and calm and very nonexplosive— but that was before her, after all.

It was pathetically easy at the time, considering his amount of interaction with other humans had gone from healthy to nonexistent entirely so he didn’t have much to think about aside from himself; perhaps when he was truly desperate or feeling especially lonely, he’d think about Mystra and the nights he’d spent in Elysium with her (literally and metaphorically).

But now, any attempts to be chaste or think chaste thoughts were moot in her presence.

Especially after the night they shared under the stars in the wilderness of the Shadow Cursed Lands.

They’d hardly been able to go more than a few hours without some kind of touch in the days following that perfect evening— whether it be a hand on her lower back, or holding one of her much smaller hands in his as he helped her scale a wall or hop across a boulder that she was more than capable of managing herself. A stolen kiss when no one was looking. Or, if they were lucky, they could steal a few moments alone in some ruined and crumbling crypt where he could bury himself between her thighs and send a silent thank you to whatever gods had a hand in creating a creature as divine as her.

That being said, they hadn’t been entirely discreet about their affections— not that they really wanted to be. Gale certainly had no reservations about making it known that he was claiming her for himself, despite his gentlemanly nature chastising him for it and reminding himself she was a person, not a prize to be claimed.

He would never say that she was, anyway, do not mistake it— being raised solely by a woman such as the inimitable Morena Dekarios had beaten into his core that women were not to be claimed or to be owned but to be cherished and treated as your equal. He would never claim otherwise, he couldn’t.

On the other hand, he was also acutely aware that his were not the only set of eyes that wistfully tracked her every move and every breath throughout the day within their strange band of wayward souls, and a very base part of him needed to send the clearest message he could muster without flat out verbally declaring that she was his.

It was very unlike him, this sort of possessive and primal nature, but he couldn’t deny that a small fraction of himself that he usually shoved into the deepest recesses of his being loved it for that fact. It was a part of him reserved only for her, as she was the only one who’d ever been able to coax it out of him.

And thus, he felt absolved of any guilt about the way he glared daggers at the side of Astarion’s head and pictured hurling a fire bolt at the undead man as he spoke to her in hushed tones across camp.

At least he knew it wouldn’t kill him. Although, he’d probably slit Gale’s throat for singing his singlet in return.

It was enough to keep the heat in his palm at bay for the time being.

He tried to discreetly move close enough to hear their conversation, moving toward Wyll’s tent that happened to be just a few paces away from Astarion’s and disguising his intentions as simply having a chat over a glass of wine with the warlock.

Wyll’s eyes light up as the wizard approaches, shooting him a dashing and very princely smile that he was certain had made many a maiden swoon in his younger years as the duke’s son, galavanting through ballrooms and dragging said maidens to the dance floor after either one too many glasses of brandy or none at all.

“Gale, my friend! Fancy a glass of wine?” He kindly proposed, tilting the glass in his hand in Gale’s direction.

Gale offers an almost genuine smile, nodding. “Thank you, Wyll. I think a hearty glass of wine is just what I need at the moment,” he laments with a sigh.

Wyll disappears for only a moment before returning with a glass and wine bottle in hand. “That bad, huh?”

Gale gratefully takes the silver glass and holds it out for Wyll to pour the rest of the Amnan Liquer he’d been holding onto since their escapades at the former Rosymorn Monastery turned Githyanki Crèche.

He turns his body just enough to keep both his lover and the offending vampire in his line of sight, attempting to tune into their conversation and realizing that he can faintly hear the melodic hum of her voice, as well as the silky tones of Astarion’s.

Firebolt. No, no.

Wyll’s eyes dart between Gale, then Tav, then Astarion, his eyebrow raising. “Astarion certainly doesn’t lack in the gall department, I’ll give him that.”

Gale huffs a bitter laugh. “Can’t fault him. As much as I want to.”

Wyll gently bumps his shoulder into Gale’s with a reassuring smile. “One can’t always be a gentleman, Gale. I respect your restraint, but if I were you, even I would be cutting in on whatever it is that he’s doing with her. Love the fellow, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”

Gale goes silent, giving himself a moment to try to catch any of what was being said between them, only hearing the sound of her laughter intermingling with Astarion’s— and suddenly Wyll’s advice had become all the more tempting to follow.

I could just go over there, he thinks. ‘Assert my dominance’ the old fashioned way. Or…

A wickedly devious idea flutters across his mind, and a smirk forms on his lips. Before he can realize it and stop it, Wyll’s tadpole connects to his, and Wyll snorts as he sees what debauchery Gale’s brain had concocted.

“She’d have your arse in a second,” he jokingly warns. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Gale wanted to listen to reason (Wyll Ravengard being the voice of reason, in this instance) and just do the diplomatic thing as he always did— but a part of him wanted to make a show of it all. To show her as well as everyone else the lengths he’d go to for her.

He whispers a simple cantrip and waves his hand, blue light glowing from his palm as he calls for a spectral hand to appear before him. He eyes the mage hand for a moment, waving his fingers and watching it as it mirrors his movements with perfect accuracy. A rush of excitement passes through him as he ponders the possibilities, but debates for a moment whether he should— only to hear the lovely melody that was her laughter once again and his decision was sealed.

He commands the hand to become invisible, the only way for him to tell it was still there was the very faint outline of it that you could only notice if you had been looking for it. He flicks his hand in her direction, commanding it to fly toward her.

“Your funeral,” Wyll chuckles, taking a long sip from his chalice, eyebrows raised.

The hand obliges, quickly floating to her but stopping just beside her. She shivers slightly as it grazes her bare shoulder, her head snapping in the direction of the sudden sensation.

Gale freezes for a moment, praying she doesn’t catch on too soon. When she finally turns her attention back to Astarion, he relaxes, then motions for the hand to gently brush her hair over her other shoulder, causing her to jump and look again, her eyes narrowed as she scans the area. Her gaze lands on Gale, and he tries to remain composed but cannot hide the pleased smirk on his face. She furrows her brows, a look of confusion and suspicion on her face as she turns away once again. She still hadn’t caught on just yet, much to Gale’s delight.

He continues once again, now commanding the hand to gently caress the back of her neck, the cool sensation of its spectral palm causing goosebumps to rise and her hair to stand on end. She sucks in a sharp breath, causing Astarion’s eyes to snap up to her.

“Everything alright, dear?” He hears Astarion ask, his signature shit-eating grin still on his lips.

She nods, clearing her throat. “Mhm, sorry, I just— ah, got a bit chilly.”

He cocks a brow at her. “I would offer to warm you, but I don’t think that I am qualified for the task,” he jokes, causing Gale’s jaw to clench.

Firebolt. Ooh, better yet, Fireball. Ice knife. Lightning bolt, perhaps?

She laughs, then gasps once again as the hand has now relocated to the front of her, gently tracing the outline of her collar bone. It then follows the curve of the top of her breast, settling between her cleavage for a moment before continuing down further and further, grazing her abdomen before stopping just at the waistline of her breeches.

“Gods, I shouldn’t be watching this,” Wyll grunts, shaking his head and allowing his gaze to drop to the ground.

She turns and shoots a piercing look at Gale, now fully aware of what was happening. He winks at her, before commanding the hand to continue its journey down her body, ghosting over the spot between her thighs. She squeezes her legs shut tight, in an attempt to quell the heat pooling low in her core despite her rising frustration toward Gale and her embarrassment.

“Darling, do you need a blanket? Perhaps we could move into my te—”

“I’m fine,” She blurts, loud enough so that she knows Gale hears her, as she refuses to give in to his childish behavior. “What were you saying?”

As Astarion continues whatever riveting story he’d been telling before she distracted him, she shoots Gale one last pathetic glance, not sure whether she was begging him to stop or keep going. He smirks, taking her pleading eyes as his queue to continue, moving the mage hand southward and grazing her blazing hot center.

She sucks in another breath, this time a lot quieter, her head falling back that she attempts to play off as if she were simply looking up at the stars.

Astarion’s head shoots up to look at her again, almost as if he were beginning to get frustrated.

“S-stars are bright tonight,” She stammers, eliciting a chuckle from Gale. He was enjoying this far too much to stop now.

He wills the hand to press two fingers down right where he knows her clit is, reveling in the way her back arches at the sudden touch, right where he knew she loved it.

Astarion’s eyebrow raises as he eyes her, her face flushed, her hair in disarray and her legs clamped shut tight. He was— unfortunately for her— very good at reading body language, even more specifically hers, and he was beginning to catch on to her predicament. His eyes dart over toward Gale who was not at all subtle with the devious smirk on his face as his hand continued commanding the spell.

“Your wizard is clever, I’ve got to hand it to him.” He smirks, stifling a chuckle.

Her eyes go wide, the hot blush in her cheeks only increasing.

“I’m going to kill him.” She hisses through gritted teeth, before twisting and facing Gale, who could not contain the triumphant grin on his face despite her very displeased expression.

“Do it out where I can watch, won’t you, darling? I’m quite overdue for a good show.” He calls after her, watching her storm toward Gale, shaking his head and chuckling with delight.

Gale dismisses the spell as he spots her making a very angry beeline toward him, then crosses his arms behind his back innocently as she approaches him.

“I warned you, you cheeky bastard.” Wyll grumbles, watching with anticipation and vaguely hidden amusement as she stomps toward the wizard beside him with murderous intent.

Gale offers her a smile as she approaches, to which she only offers a grimace.

“Hello, my love. Feeling alright?” He says equally as innocently, in spite of the devilish grin on his face.

She shakes her head. “Tent. Now.”

He raises his hands in defense, shit-eating smirk ever persistent. “Your wish is my command, darling.” He draws out the pet name to mimic the way Astarion says it, earning a rather angry eye roll.

He trails behind her as she continues her warpath toward his tent, his heart racing as he imagines exactly what he plans to do the second he gets her alone— he’d saved those thoughts for after Wyll’s tadpole’s connection broke from his own to spare him the filthy details.

She ducks into his tent brusquely, the flap slapping closed behind her before he makes his own way in after her. He chuckles at her ire, and the fact that in any other situation he’d be on his knees begging her for forgiveness in response to her irritation toward him— but this time, he planned on using it much to his advantage. Fuel for the fire, so to speak.

The second he enters the tent, her wild eyes are on him and she’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest which was still heaving, her face still completely flushed.

“What the hells is wrong with y—”

Her tirade is cut off by lips roughly crashing onto hers, her words being instantly smothered then swallowed by him and his tongue and the bittersweet taste of wine on his breath. She wants to fight back but finds her efforts moot as she instantly melts into him, allowing him to maneuver her exactly as he wishes.

Rough but elegant hands grip her waist, pulling her body flush to his, enough for her to feel the erection straining to be freed from his pants against her lower stomach. The heat that had been coiling and pooling low within her had only reignited with a vengeance now, partially fueled by her anger toward him and mostly fueled by her ever present desire for him.

His hands migrated to palm the swell of her ass, kneading the plush but still firm flesh that always caught his attention even in the worst moments such as the middle of a tense battle— something he almost felt the need to punish her for, even though it wasn’t truly her fault.

His tongue explores her mouth hungrily as her hands move to begin undoing the buttons of his linen shirt, before one of his hands catches her wrist and holds it, lacing her fingers through his. He breaks the kiss, dark umber irises pooling with pure liquid lust and carnality as they meet her more perplexed ones.

Leaving her unspoken questions unanswered, he unbuttons her pants with one hand, yanking them down her legs until she takes it upon herself to kick them off and discard them somewhere on the ground within the tent. He tugs at the bottom edge of her shirt, and she wordlessly grants him permission with only a small nod and a raise of her arms to afford him some ease in ripping it over her head and adding to the growing pile of clothes scattered across the floor of the small space.

She’s lit only by the soft orange glow of the campfire leaking in through the crack of the tent flap that neither of them had bothered to seal, her skin radiant even in the dimness of the night. He drinks in her frame, eyes skimming along every contour of her body, every rounded edge and every sharp one— even the shadow she cast against the back wall of his tent was erotic, all hips and curves and the most heavenly structure.

As if she’d been lovingly built by Sune’s own gracious hands.

“Lay down,” he commands, pointing to the bedroll that he’d preemptively fixed and made extra comfortable with several more layers of blankets, pillows, and furs. “And spread your legs for me.”

She obliges instantly, quickly but gracefully laying atop the nest of cotton and fur and velvet, her hair splaying around her head and framing her like a halo— only serving to make his already painfully stiff cock twitch against the fabric of his pants and a bead of precum leak from the tip. He feared he may not even be able to make it long enough to be inside of her at this rate.

“That’s my girl,” he almost moans, his voice low and husky and reverent as he drops to his knees before her, moving to kneel between her legs. “My beautiful girl.”

She blushes and shyly looks away, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to bite back a smile. He leans over her, gently gripping her chin with his fingers and moving her face back to look at him. “Eyes on me, my love. My love.” He drawls, dragging out his words in hopes that they’d have more time to sink into her precious mind that he cherished just as much, if not more than her wholly divine body.

Gale was all together a typically patient man. He did almost everything meticulously and gracefully. He would spend hours studying a particular topic just to ensure that he’d get it right the very first time.

Gale as a lover was no different.

He’d spent hours and even days at this point learning everything he could about her body— every sensitivity, every weak spot, ticklish spot, every scar or freckle or blemish. The things she was insecure or shy about, the things that would send her eyes rolling back into her head.

He had become a consummate virtuoso at worshiping her body and what granted her the most pleasure possible. He lavished her in it, bathed her in every ounce of bliss he possibly could until she could no longer speak, much less think properly.

Tonight was no exception— though he was considerably less delicate than was typical for him, as he hungrily lapped at the heat between her thighs as if it contained the last drop of honey on the face of Faerun. He licked and kissed and sucked and drank in every bit of her essence he possibly could, not stopping even after she’d already come just to wring out every last bit of her pleasure for his own selfish need. The selfish need to taste her, to savor her. To devour her.

He didn’t stop until she was a tangled mess of shaking limbs and clammy skin and teary eyes, and she whimpered his name like a plea. Whether it were a plea to stop or to keep going was unclear for both of them.

He lifted his face, his beard and lips drenched in her slick as he licked the remains of her off of his lips and fingers, causing her to clamp her legs together at the sight. He smirks triumphantly, knowing full well that she was nearing being entirely spent and yet she still wanted more.

“Please,” she whimpered, leaning up (very unsteadily) to finish unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons and the fabric. He relents and allows her to make her best attempt with her trembling fingers before he takes over for her, lifting it over his head and discarding the linen nearby.

Her finger gently trails from the dark purple mark of the orb on his chest down the hard planes of his torso until she reaches the waistband of his pants, dipping her finger underneath and tugging at it. Her eyes meet his full of intent, and he feels the tadpole in his head stir as she tries to connect to him.

I need to suck your cock. Please.

His eyes darken as he looks at her, the image of her perfectly pink lips wrapped around him searing into his mind— whether it being his own thoughts or hers invading his didn’t matter— but he shakes his head, then severs the connection.

She frowns, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He rubs his thumb along the swollen softness of it as he caresses her chin, tilting her head back slightly to get a better view of the elegant column of her neck. He had plans for the perfect and smooth expanse of the area between her jaw and her clavicle that he soon intended to enact. But not yet.

“Naughty girl,” he chastises her, but not without a devious smirk and a hint of lustful playfulness.

She whimpers again, sending goosebumps down his arms and the hair on them to raise on end. “Please, Gale. I want to make you feel good, I need to make you feel good,” she stammers, her eyes peering up at his, wanton and needy.

It was enough to almost oblige her request, but he knew if her mouth came anywhere near his already all too sensitive cock that he’d come apart at the seams instantly, and that just wouldn’t do.

“And I need to be inside of you,” he retorts, his voice soft but stern. “I need to claim what’s mine.” He nearly growls.

Gentleman Gale reprimands him in his mind, but is quickly overtaken by Her Gale— the one that only answers to her and belongs solely to her. The one that hoped with everything in him there was also a part of her that was his and only his.

Her mouth opens to speak, and he half expects her to yell at him and berate him for reducing her to a prize to be claimed— and is pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t.

“Please. Please come here, please fuck me,” she begs, the rasp in her voice as she does nothing short of absolutely erotic.

He needs no further instruction, and quickly removes his pants and undergarments, his erection springing free and already slick with his own desire. She eyes it with a hunger that he recognizes and has to ignore before the temptation to fuck her mouth grows any stronger.

He presses his strong but gentle hand against her chest, slowly pushing her back against the pillows as he moves to position himself at her entrance, her legs wrapping around his hips and urging him forward impatiently. He taps the side of one of her thighs in warning, rubbing the head of his cock across her already soaked folds to further lubricate it and tease her.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

She whines, her voice broken as if she truly might cry if she goes another second without him inside her. “Gale.”

He chuckles darkly, once again pressing the swollen head of his cock at her entrance, slipping in as slowly as he can manage, mustering every bit of strength and willpower he has left not to just bury himself in her as deep as he can.

“Tell me,” he commands, his voice low and gruff but still needy, almost desperate.

She connects the dots instantly, knowing exactly what he wanted. What he craved. “I’m yours, Gale. Only yours.”

She cries out in shock, slight pain, and pure ecstasy as he harshly snaps his hips into hers, his cock burying to the hilt in her velvet heat.

Home. This felt like home.

He knew that he probably should have given her more time to adjust to him, and it was something he’d surely feel guilty about later, but Her Gale wanted her to feel it tomorrow. He wanted her to be reminded of this moment as she goes on about her day through the ache between her legs as she walks, constantly reminding her who fucks her like this, who loves her like this.

“My pretty girl, my perfect girl,” he chants, his words leaving his lips like a litany of prayer as if he were in a temple of worship. He’d always been a man of religion, but this was holier and more divine than anything he’d ever experienced— even sharing a bed with an actual goddess couldn’t compare.

She throws her head back, her eyes shut tightly and she desperately grips at the pillows around her to ground herself, her neck on full display. He leans down to place wet kisses in a trail from her jaw to her collarbone, biting and sucking in very obvious spots that she’d be hard pressed to be able to cover in the morning.

She writhes and moans underneath him, one of her hands moving to grip the back of his head and fist the hair at the nape of his neck, the sensation of her fingers tugging at his scalp blending from slight pain into pure pleasure earning a throaty grunt from him that rumbles in his chest.

He feels her tighten ever so slightly around him, her walls clenching and pulsing in a sort of warning. He continues his pace, driving her closer and closer to the precipice.

“Gale, I’m gonna—”

“I know, sweet girl, I know,” he coos, leaning down and pressing his lips to her sweat slicked forehead, then whispering, “come for me, my love.”

It wasn’t so much a demand as a desperate request, as his need to feel her come on him and to ride out the waves of her pleasure alongside her became almost devastating.

To urge her on even further, he slipped a hand down and began to rub quick circles around her clit as he pounded into her until she saw stars— it wasn’t long before she completely shattered underneath him, tumbling into free fall off the edge of the best orgasm she’d ever had.

She cries out a jumbled mess of I love you and I’m yours with his name sprinkled throughout as she reaches the peak and dives off the edge, her hips rocking upward into Gale’s as he continues to fuck her through her orgasm. He feels himself quickly approaching his own finish line, the feeling of her cunt pulsing and hugging his cock tighter and tighter driving him further and further.

A few more thrusts and he was done for, spilling everything he had in her and grunting her name as he came, the entire fiber of his being ripping apart and repairing itself as he went limp above her, barely having enough strength to brace himself with his hands on either side of her head as he gripped the pillows so that he doesn’t crush her under his weight.

They both fall silent apart from the sounds of their breathing steadying and slowing to a calm and regular pace, the only other sounds being that of the distant crackling of the fire and the even more distant sounds of their companions still wrapping up for the night and preparing for bed.

Her eyes flutter open to find his in the dim light of the fire, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek. He sighs and leans into her touch, turning his head to place a kiss to the center of her palm, the coarse hair of his beard scratching her skin and tickling it, making her giggle quietly.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she jokes, causing him to nibble at the skin of her palm playfully. “That wasn’t funny, Gale.”

He smiles and reaches for a rag to clean her up with. “I had hoped this would serve as an adequate apology.”

She sucks in a breath as he pulls out and rubs the rag across her still sensitive and throbbing core, her hips bucking upward slightly with some discomfort. “You expected to fuck me into complicity?”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest as he finishes cleaning her, then tosses the rag aside and lays beside her, pulling her onto his chest.

“Not exactly,” he says, earning a disbelieving grimace from her. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I just— I don’t think you realize that seeing the way he interacts with you and the way you interact with him is nothing short of agonizing for me.”

She saw the hurt in his eyes even in the dark— the ache and the gnawing need for reassurance. She understood it all too well, as she’d done the same when the topic of Mystra would get brought up in the earlier days of their relationship.

“There is no other set of arms I’d rather have wrapped around me right now than yours. There is no other company I’d rather share in the way I share in yours. Don’t you know that?” She asked, shifting so that she’s leaning over him, his big brown eyes resembling those of a puppy being told it was a good boy.

“I am yours, Gale Dekarios,” she whispers. “Body and soul.”

Relief and pure elation smoothed out the concern from his features. He pulled her closer to him, until she was mostly on top of him and her head rested on his chest and he could press a long kiss against the top of her head, breathing in her scent and shutting his eyes, both of them drifting into a peaceful slumber.

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mysterycitrus · 4 months

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recently finished batgirl 2000 and i'm feeling Insane about her. do you have any opinions on the run? the character herself?

bro cass cain and batgirl 2000 are litchrally on my mind 24/7 and the more i think about her the more unhinged i become. how perfectly she mirrors bruce’s own internal struggle. her love for all things living. her desire to change. her disconnection from everyone in her life by speaking a language only her mother knows. her belief in the good. her absolute self-conviction and confidence to the detriment of her own life. the roses. wow wow wow

the more i read the more ive completely lost patience with comic fans who totally ignore or rebuke her as a character in comparison to bruce’s other kids. talking about the male robins with her noticeably absent is an immediate close tab. “she’s boring” “she’s underdeveloped” “she’s not as interesting” just tells me they’ve never actually read her run, or engaged with her character in good faith. her total exclusion from fan content about the waynes, her absence in fanfic, her reduction to a smiling, placid little girl who isn’t allowed a dissenting opinion. she has a single comic run from the early aughts that’s better than anything published this decade please be so incredibly serious!!!

she’s the most like bruce by any metric. dick understands bruce better than anyone, but cass is bruce, for both the good and bad. he sees her commitment to giving everyone a chance, sees her devotion to life, and is both awed and horrified. there’s a bit outta persephone that i still think about a lot:

Cassandra replies: “I was born into violence. Not to this life, but something worse. I was made to hurt people. I chose differently. I changed the path and found this. This new life, new purpose, new home.” She taps the symbol on her chest. “This, I wear to help people. To protect them. To start each day better, and brighter. The way I grew up… it was isolated, and lonely. I spoke a language no one else understood. There was no kindness because a weapon is to be used. Used to hurt, and cut, and kill. Who cares what a tool thinks?”

in my mind she is thee only choice for batman if bruce retires — for literally anyone else it’d just be character regression. dick would rather kill himself. the cowl would kill tim. jason needs to grow his own morals. damian works better as a narrative foil by attaining his own mantle, his own destiny. if nightwing is what batman could never be, then cass is what batman should be. she cares about the mantle, and has made it her own. she embodies all of bruce’s worst habits, but overcomes them. she is what gotham truly needs.

#ready to talk about her any time any place #cassandra cain #batgirl #batman #bruce wayne #dc comics #batfam #the ask and the answer

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 days

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AITA for moving a box of spaghetti?

I (24F) live with my retired parents (66M, 66F). I pay rent (though significantly below market rate) and I pay for all my own expenses (groceries, insurances, phone, etc.). I also provide free live-in pet care when my folks travel, which they tend to do for weeks at a time.

My mom is kind of a control freak about the house. I am not allowed to have visitors, or any belongings outside the confines of my room. She also used to extend this to my room, but not since I turned 18. When I was in high school, I had to secretly buy and assemble a desk while she was at work because she thought a desk would "ruin the aesthetic" of my room. The only exception to the "no stuff" rule is in the kitchen, as perishable foods don't really do well in bedrooms.

She has decided it is her New Project to segregate all of their food from my food. I don't have an issue with that in itself. However, she is intent on doing it completely unilaterally. She first did the freezer, which she showed me excitedly. I was like "Oh, cool. Do you think we could switch which drawer is mine? I was used to using this one". And she absolutely freaked out, because I am not a ROOMMATE, I am a GUEST, and how DARE I have the ENTITLEMENT to tell HER where to put things in the house SHE OWNS. Please note that here she is screaming so loud that my friend, waiting for me outside, could hear her from their car.

We had a similar exchange when she showed me the fridge! I didn't have an issue with the actual organization there, but I was still like "hey you seem really stoked to show me this. I wish you would communicate about it beforehand though. Even if you're going to do it anyway, I feel like it's an act of respect to let me know what your plan is before you just start touching and moving my stuff". That again, didn't go well.

Today she decided to tackle the pantry. At this point this is a sore spot for me. I am like, physically holding myself back from heckling her as she does this. It doesn't help that she started doing this right before I was about to make myself breakfast so I am Hangry. She finishes like, an hour and a half later. I make my food. I notice that the way she has arranged my pasta, you can't get at any of the stuff without taking it all out of the cabinet. I fix it while still keeping all of my stuff on My side, but I have to remove a box of spaghetti because it doesn't fit quite right. I put it on the counter while I clean my pan because I'm not sure how I'm going to address it. I am definitely aware there is a chance I'm going to get yelled at, but I move it anyway.

While I'm scrubbing, my mom comes into the kitchen, sees the spaghetti box on the counter, and starts screaming bloody murder at me, at "audible down the street" levels. To the point where I was very viscerally upset for hours.

I obviously know that the severity of her reaction is literally insane, especially because I didn't even yell back at her. However, I'm torn on how justified I actually am in wanting to be included in the organization of the kitchen. AM I being entitled about this? Should I just let my mom do what she wants or should I keep trying to advocate for myself?

#aita #am i the asshole

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python333 · 7 months

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I love your writings sm. And I love the way you write platonic stuff with task force 141 😋

You can ignore this if ya want but I just can't get over reader angst. Honestly atp I starve for angst. Could you feed us another angst fic? Like platonic 141 with a reader where she maybe got pretty badly injured while being on a mission? :3

AND. don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!! Take any breaks you need 😌.

(sorry if this doesn't make sense English is not my native language 🥲)

below zero — python333

— — — —

synopsis u get thrown into a freezer after refusing to give up intel to enemy soldiers, and u get thrown into a freezer, and ghost comes and saves u :3

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 5.2k

warnings hypothermia, disorientation, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hi anon thank u so much for all the compliments!!! before i say anything else, i wanna point out that i 1) only really wrote ghost into this and 2) literally read the request completely wrong and i think im actually just illiterate because how did i mess up this bad. ALSO hi its been a month since i posted on here i swear i'm still alive i'm just super busy with school!! updates are going to be extremely slow, so i apologize in advance. still, i hope u enjoy it anyways tho!! its all hurt/comfort + angst/fluff + protective/soft ghost :3

When you were thrown into the freezer, the first thing you noticed were the bodies.

There’s ten that you can immediately see, and twelve once you look a little bit closer. All of them are suspended from the ceiling, each hanging from their ankle—with said ankle being held up by a meat hook.

When the door had been closed shut with a loud, booming thump you hadn’t felt any immediate fear. But now, as you’re sitting in the corner of the freezer you’d been trapped in—the corner farthest away from any bodies—that fear is starting to set in.

Before this, only a few minutes ago, you were being interrogated. Your captors were asking for information on the details of any upcoming missions, objectives, target locations, anything that you had about the 141 that you could share with them, they wanted.

Of course, you didn’t say anything. You remained silent throughout the entire thing, not talking once, even when at the end of the whole thing your interrogator slammed his hand down onto the table you were sat down in front of and yelled at you to say anything.

When he and his team figured out that you wouldn’t give them any information, you remember he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and swiftly walked over to your end of the table. He had uncuffed your ankles from the legs of the chair you were sitting down on and uncuffed your wrists from the table, and before you could fight back, he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and dragged you behind him.

Then, he led you to the freezer you were trapped in now, and threw you in roughly before shutting the door behind you. You had hit and scratched at the door for a good minute after being thrown in, and after you figured that it was a waste of time trying to do so, you sighed and retired to the corner.

Now, as you’re huddled in the corner, you kind of regret not giving them the intel they needed.

The freezer wasn’t too bad at first—you thought you’d last pretty long in there, and mentally called all the dead bodies hung from meat hooks in there pussies and simply walked around for a bit. The walking helped warm you up a bit, but soon it got tiring, and you retired to the corner farthest away from any dead bodies.

You think the freezer is below zero degrees—no, has to be below zero, because now, just about five minutes after being thrown in, violent shivers have started to wrack your body and you swear you can’t feel your lips anymore. You haven’t been able to feel any sort of warmth in the past four minutes, all of it disappearing within the first.

And God, the smell. The smell of frozen, rotting flesh really isn’t something you ever want to smell again. Thankfully, there’s no live flies in the freezer—all of them had died of the severe cold, creating small black circles under each hanging body where they died.

You currently have your knees up to your chest with your hands trapped in between your thighs to try and keep them warm at least, with your forehead resting on the top of one of your knees. It’s working, kind of. The palms and backs of your hands feel just warm enough to not be considered cold, but the tips of your fingers are so cold they’re beginning to burn.

You pull them back a bit to trap your fingertips in between your thighs, exposing the area where your wrist and hand meet to the cold, sighing as your fingertips warm up just a bit. Your thighs, thankfully, still have some heat trapped in between them, and you think your stomach is still somewhat warm.

Around ten minutes later, you feel the heat trapped in your thighs start to dissipate. Fucking fantastic. You sigh and let your head tilt back, the back of it hitting the wall behind you, making you wince at the cold metal directly on your head. The cold seems to crawl through your hair and make it to your scalp, small pinpricks of the cold spreading throughout your scalp and the back of your neck.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is then, of how this is quite literally a freezer, and of how said freezer has already claimed twelve lives. Or, at least, has housed twelve dead bodies and several unfortunate flies.

Just then, the fear finally starts to set in.

At first, you weren’t all too worried about being saved—you figured you’d be found soon enough, since your team has a general idea of where you are. But the more you think about it, the more your brain emphasizes the general part of general idea. You start to think about how they don’t know any specifics.

Sure, they know that you were captured, and that you were being held in some small part of Italy, and the people who captured you—but what did they know beyond that? Did they know your exact location? How long would it take them to figure it out? And how long would it take them to get here?

Would you even be alive by the time they got here, if they ever did?

You notice your teeth starting to make an annoying chattering noise and you bite down to stop them. The violent shivers that wrack your body don’t help, the intense trembling only succeeding in making you more anxious. You start to become hyper aware of the cold that crawls onto your back from the freezing metal you’re leaning back on, and you quickly push yourself just a foot away from it so that it no longer bothers you.

Your feet are starting to feel numb, you don’t think you’d be able to stand on them anymore if you tried, for you fear you’d just stumble and fall down. You look around the small freezer. There’s nothing that could help you get out—there’s only the bodies suspended from the ceiling and the dead flies that surround them.

You’re glad none of the bodies are facing you—you don’t know what you would do if you had to sit in the corner with a bunch of dead bodies staring at you with their vacant, frozen-over eyes. Thinking about the eyes makes your own water, and you blink away the small tears that’ve gathered on your waterline.

You can’t feel them, but you see the tears that were once in your eyes now clumping together on your eyelashes, making your brows furrow. With them starting to cling to your eyelashes comes blurriness for the top half of whatever you can see. You sigh, a white puff of condensation hanging in the air as evidence of your exhale, and move your hand out from in between your thighs to wipe away the tears from your lashes haphazardly.

You don’t bother to put your hand back in between your thighs, instead just resting it on top of your knee. Despite it only having been around fifteen minutes since you were thrown into the freezer, you’re starting to feel more fatigued and your breath slows down significantly, as does your heartbeat.

Another ten minutes of doing nothing but staring at the wall opposite of your own pass by, and disorientation is starting to set in. You feel oddly forgetful—like at times, you forget how you even got into the freezer, and have to wrack your brain to remember that you literally got thrown into it and are now trapped in here until someone rescues you. Assuming they do. Who was it that would even rescue you?

You think long and hard for a few seconds, and can scrounge up nothing from your confused mind. You let out a frustrated huff and let your head tilt and fall forward so that your forehead is resting atop your knee, another shiver ripping through your frame. It almost feels like it’s getting colder in the fridge.

Suddenly, you hear a loud banging noise—albeit, it sounded more muffled to your ears, but you could tell it was loud—and guns being fired.

You can’t really tell when the gunfire dies down, but you can tell when the thumping of someone’s boots grows louder and closer to the door of the freezer. You try to stand up, not really knowing why since you’re in no condition to fight, having been in a freezer for about forty minutes, but you still attempt to.

You find that standing is extremely difficult after practically being frozen alive for the past forty minutes, because as soon as you try to even push yourself off of the ground with your shaky hands, you discover that you aren’t even strong enough to push yourself up a single inch before having to stop. As well as that, you find that the ground is just as freezing as the walls and air of the freezer, because your hands now ached with frostbite.

The action causes an unexpected wave of exhaustion to roll over you, and you pant to try and catch your breath, breathing white puffs of condensation out into the air.

You hear a loud bang against the door, and jump at the sound, your head whipping towards the door. You hear another loud noise, and the confused fog that’s taken over your mind only grows thicker, your disorientation only growing stronger with it. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the feeling reminds you of a word, and you know what the word is, but fuck, why don’t you know it at the same time? Why can’t I remember anything?

There’s another bang, and you hear muffled cursing before suddenly the door bursts open, a man wearing a skull mask stumbling in after it does so—he probably ran into it to open it, you think, watching the man get his balance back. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, and the moment they do, you finally remember something.

That’s Ghost.

Somewhere in your confusion-clouded mind, you’re happy that you’ve finally remembered something. But right now, you can’t really think about anything—your mind is blank, and you can barely even process what you’re seeing.

You’re so caught up in thinking about the fact that you aren’t really thinking, you’re just focusing a little more on whatever’s going on in your mind and not actually retaining any of it, that you don’t even notice Ghost rushing towards you and kneeling down right next to you.

He pauses for a moment, but after a second he makes the decision to put one hand behind your back and snake one under your legs, the warm physical touch making you wince. Not that you didn’t like the warmth—you just didn’t like the sudden temperature change beneath your knees and across your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Ghost grunts as he picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you up into a sort of bridal carry. He nearly drops you because of how cold your skin is—for a moment he thinks your back and legs are wet, then he realizes that no, they aren’t wet, you’re just really fucking cold.

He takes a moment to make sure you’re secure in his arms before tilting his head to the side, all the way down to his shoulder, and muttering something into his earpiece. Despite being so close to him, his voice only sounds muffled to you—in all honesty, just about everything is starting to sound more muffled to you. You can only tell he’s done talking because he lifts his head back up and readjusts his arms around you, before walking out the busted-open door.

The walking quickly turns into running, which then turns into sprinting, making your surroundings go blurry and makes your vertigo worse—it almost feels like you’re falling. You’re grateful you haven’t eaten anything in the past few hours, because you fear that if you had, you would’ve thrown it all up by now. All you can see are blurred colors—the hallways, you vaguely remember, because I’m in a building. How’d I even get here? Why am I here? You’re pulled out of your confused thoughts when you’re set down on the ground somewhere, and forced into a lying position with your limbs all outstretched. When you slowly blink up at what you thought was the ceiling, you’re both surprised and not surprised when you see the blue-black night sky.

Not sure of what’s going on, you try to get up, but Ghost quickly pushes you back down, muttering something under his breath. He pauses for a moment, his blurred figure stopping any and all movements, before he suddenly picks you back up, making you wince at the way your head spins at the sudden movement. You hear a quiet, muffled—but clearer than before—’sorry’ from Ghost before he’s running again.

It’s a much shorter distance this time, and instead of immediately setting you down, you hear something click and suddenly you hear another muffled voice. They sound concerned, you mentally note, Or maybe confused. Maybe both, actually. No yeah, definitely both. Well, now just concerned. Or maybe that’s confused.

Caught up in your confused thoughts, you don’t realize that you’re being set down on a few comfy seats. You aren’t pulled away from your own thoughts until you feel two warm hands cupping either side of your jaw, and hear Ghost’s oddly distressed voice becoming more clear by the second. You now acknowledge the weird ringing in your ears that almost drown out the sound of Ghost, and struggle to figure out what he’s saying through the annoying noise.

“—something,” You catch the end of Ghost’s sentence, and blink up at him slowly.

“Huh?” You elegantly ask, coughing and wincing at your hoarse voice, not knowing how it got so hoarse—or why it hurt so much to talk. Your throat almost felt like it was burning, but it also felt oddly numb, a sensation you couldn’t quite put a name on.

“Oh my god,” Ghost sighs, his forehead falling onto your chest momentarily as he takes a few deep breaths. He brings his head back up from your chest and says, “I almost thought you were dead when I got in there. Jesus, you look dead. I need to— I need to get something, a blanket or— why the fuck don’t we carry any heat packs or anything in here? Swear to God, I’m gonna—” You don’t pay too much attention to Ghost’s panicked ranting and shift your head to the side to try and look at where you are, and you discover that you’re in a car. Oh. Cool. You spot the door on the passenger seat’s side still open and swinging a bit, as if it’d been opened quickly just a few moments earlier for someone to quickly get out.

Ghost suddenly backs up and gets out of the car, though staying within a foot of it, looking around for a moment before heading to the back of the car. Your head clears up the tiniest bit, just enough for you to be able to assume that he’s heading to the back of the car to get to the trunk for whatever reason, and you simply lie there on the seat cushions.

A few seconds later, Ghost comes back with a somewhat-fluffy jacket, and carefully gets into the car—half kneeling down so that he doesn’t need to lean on the seats to get to you. He tosses the coat over your chest, and it does absolutely nothing at first, at least not until Ghost gets a bit closer and tucks the coat tighter around you, treating it like a blanket. Then, it starts to warm you up just the tiniest bit. Beyond that, it does absolutely nothing. But props to Ghost for at least trying.

He quickly backs out of the car and once he’s out he closes the door behind him, and you want to get up for a moment, just to go see what he’s doing, but you don’t have to. He gets into the car again, this time in the driver’s seat, and he turns on the ignition. Once the car rumbles to life, he immediately turns up the heat and leans over to the passenger seat’s side in order to close the door, and with a grunt he manages to do so.

The newfound heat makes you shiver, and it almost feels like you’re in a microwave defrosting. Distracted by the sudden temperature change, you don’t pay attention to what Ghost is saying into his earpiece as he glances out the front window of the car and back at you. You simply tug the jacket tighter around your torso and relish in the warmth.

“—ay. So we’ll just leave then, and you’ll be fine?” You pick up from Ghost’s conversation, perking up at the mention of leaving, “Copy that, Captain. I’ll get them back to base.”

‘Captain’—Oh, he’s talking to Price—says something that makes Ghost sigh exasperatedly and take his index finger off of his earpiece, instead settling both of his hands on the steering wheel of the car and stealing one last glance at you before setting his eyes on the gravel ahead of him and pushing down on the gas pedal.

—

When you wake up, you’re significantly warmer than you were… however-long-it’s-been-ago.

You look to your left and see nothing but a white wall and a heart rate monitor—which displays that your heart rate is 115—then to your right, where you see Ghost sitting in a plastic chair close to the bed you’re laying in, eyes closed with his head tilted to the side and resting on his own shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to wake him up, not knowing how long he’s been asleep or how much sleep he’s gotten, and instead simply turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling.

After maybe five minutes of zoning out and staring up at the ceiling, you hear clothes rustling and look back over to your right, seeing Ghost start to stir in his sleep. Just a few seconds later, he stirs awake, slowly blinking his eyes open.

You watch silently as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he breathes in sharply through his nose before looking over at you and seeing you staring at him wordlessly. You both blink at each other for a long, awkward moment before he speaks.

“… Did you, uh… how was your… rest?” Ghost asks, not sure what to say. What exactly do you say, after saving one of your teammates from potential death?

“Good,” You respond, your throat having an odd, small burning sensation when you talk.

Ghost looks like he’s holding back a few words for a moment after you speak, and after one expectant look from you, he mumbles, “You should really say ‘well’ or ‘fine’ instead. It’d be more grammatically accurate and is more grammatically aligned with the verb ‘rest’.”

“… Okay?” You blink, thrown off by the unexpected information, “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind, next time someone asks me how my rest was.”

“You get asked that often?”

“I only get asked that by you.”

“Ah.” Ghost nods, looking off to the side for a moment. You’d think he was your dad and you’d just asked him how babies were made with how awkward he was, and you honestly expected the next words out of his mouth to be ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ before he hesitantly asks, “D’you feel better? After the whole being-trapped-in-a-freezer… experience?”

“Experience?” You question, a light laugh evident in your voice, “Yeah, I feel better. I like being warm more than, y’know, being frozen alive. Laying down in a warm bed is nice.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it,” Ghost huffs out, leaning back in his seat.

“So you’re gonna correct me on my grammar but you can’t think of a better word than ‘experience’?”

“Don’t get smart with me, [c/n].”

“I’m just saying,” You shrug lightly, wincing a little when your shoulders ache as you do. Ghost notices this and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t mention it.

“Then stop trying to sass me.”

“Sass you? Jesus, fuck, don’t talk to me like I’m some preteen who just found out that they can talk back to their parents.”

“Isn’t that what you are, though?”

“No, I’m— you know what? Fuck you. Get out. I hate you. You suck.”

“That’s a colorful choice of words to say to the man who saved your life,” Ghost raises an eyebrow at you, “I’m still waiting for my ‘thank you’, by the way.”

“Don’t care, you’re never getting it,” You say stubbornly, making Ghost sigh and stand up. You look up at him as he stands up and try to sit up in your bed, but wince again when you try to move your arms. Still, you attempt to push yourself up, and only relax your weak joints and lay back down when Ghost presses a gentle hand to your shoulder to get you to stop trying to sit up.

“Don’t,” He warns softly—you didn’t know his voice could get that soft—as he pushes you back down, “Medics said you’re to keep laying down for a bit while you warm up. We’ve gotta wait until your BPM is below a hundred before letting you up.”

“That’s stupid,” You huff out, though not fighting Ghost pushing you back down.

“It’s not stupid,” Ghost lightly chastises you, “It’s doctor’s orders. Once your BPM is below a hundred, we’ll know you’re warmed up enough to start gettin’ up and walking around.”

“… Still stupid,” You grumble, not commenting on the way Ghost’s hand lingers on your shoulder even after you’ve already laid back down. Ghost sighs and kneels down so that his shoulders are level with the railing of your bed.

“You’re too stubborn.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not!” Your light arguing only proves Ghost’s point further, and he knows this, the knowledge of it making him snicker quietly.

“Uh huh. Sure, kid,” He begins to retract his hand from your shoulder, but upon seeing the disappointment that immediately seeps into your expression once he even barely begins to lift his hand from your shoulder, he immediately lets it rest right back onto your shoulder.

You both sit in silence for another few moments before Ghost speaks up again, this time a bit quieter and in that same soft tone he’d used earlier, “I tried to get to you quicker. But we needed some time to get your exact location, and when we found it we were a hundred and sixty klicks away, and it was just—it took us… some time to find you.”

“It’s fine. I understand,” You respond, about to shrug but stopping yourself, not wanting to feel that aching in your shoulders again, “I don’t even know how I let myself get captured, that— that’s probably on me.”

“You didn’t let yourself get captured, you just did.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“I don’t know, I just—” You take a deep breath before continuing slowly, “I didn’t let myself get captured, but I also didn’t do enough to fight against it, so I feel like technically—”

“Fuck the technicalities about how you got captured, you got captured either way, and you got thrown into a freezer,” Ghost cuts you off, talking quickly, before sighing and continuing in a softer voice once again, “Please, just let me try to be somewhat comforting for once. You know I’m bad at this, and that I never do this. So just… don’t talk about what happened like that, if not for your own mental health’s sake, at least for my attempts at making you feel better.”

You open your mouth to say something else but ultimately close your mouth and let out a deep sigh through your nose, not saying anything, letting Ghost continue to talk.

“I, for whatever reason, feel… very oddly bad for you,” Ghost poorly explains, before pausing to think for a moment then rephrasing, “Not… not as in I pity you, but as in I feel bad for you in a way that I feel like I’m at fault for what you went through even though I know I’m not at fault. It’s like empathy but… worse. Not saying empathy is bad to begin with, but this is like if empathy was bad and it became worse and—”

Ghost cuts himself off with silence and lets out a frustrated huff at his inability to put his feelings into words, and tries again, “I feel bad for you in a way that I don’t know what exactly you felt or how you felt in the moment that you were in that freezer but just the idea of you being in there without me for… I’m assuming an entire hour, if not longer, makes me feel like I failed. I don’t know what I failed at—”

Ghost quickly pauses before sighing and continuing, “Actually, no, I do. I feel like I failed at protecting you. Which is strange, because that’s technically not my job, but I felt—and still feel—obligated to protect you especially and that bothers me. Not bothers me in a sense that I don’t like you or the thought of… protecting you, but bothers me in the sense that I’m not supposed to feel like that. No amount of teasing, or borderline bullying, or anything should’ve ever made me feel obligated to think of you like— like— like…” Ghost trails off, leaving you wondering what he meant to say. He stays silent for a few moments, before you try to fill in for him.

“Like… what, a kid?” You offer, watching him shake his head negatively. You think for another moment, before trying again, “… Like your kid?”

Ghost nods affirmatively, hesitantly, and you want to scoff at the hesitation.

“And what, that’s bad to you?” You ask, your words more venomous than you intended. Ghost sighs and nonverbally shakes his head negatively before responding to you.

“Not bad in the way you’re thinking,” He answers, before elaborating upon seeing your confused expression, “It’s bad not because you’re bad, it’s bad because I’m bad.”

“… No you’re not?”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re really not,” You insist stubbornly.

“Please don’t be stubborn with me on this,” His tone makes it sound like he’s almost begging you, which is… somehow beyond terrifying to think about.

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being honest, you’re really not.”

“But I am,” He sounds like he’s trying to make his tone sound like there’s no room for any further arguments, but he fails, and you continue to argue with him.

“No you’re not!” The whole conversation feels like a parallel to the one you’d both been having just a few minutes earlier, except this time you’re not giving up as easily, “How are you bad?”

“I’m—” Ghost pauses for a moment, not having expected that argument, and he weakly argues, “I just am!”

“You’re not, and you fucking know it!”

“Okay, well—” Ghost sighs and looks away from you, “You might not think so. That’s fine. But I know I am. If not for anything else, for you. I’d be… terrible as any sort of… I don’t know, role model to you.”

“Jokes on you, you’re already a role model to me.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You aren’t a terrible role model. A little emo, sure, but not terrible.”

“I’m emotionally and mentally unstable, and am terrible with empathy. I’m blunt, abrasive more than half the time, and I tell the shittiest jokes known to man. I can’t— I don’t show my face to anyone. I expect everyone to act the way I want them to. I’m almost always busy.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” You brush off, “And, for the record, I don’t know what abrasive means and I can’t tell empathy from sympathy without using Google.”

Ghost looks back at you in disbelief and stares for a moment before saying quietly, “Abrasive means harsh. And empathy is showing understanding for others while sympathy is pity.”

“I also like your shitty jokes,” You add on, “I think they’re great. They make everyone else mad so I like them. And some of them are funny.”

“You find them funny?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s…” Ghost blinks at you, eyes a little watery, before huffing out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous, none of them are funny. I call them shitty for a reason.”

“Some of them are pretty funny.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“The Mayflower one.”

“… That one?” Ghost asks, tone humorous but still disbelieving, “Out of all the ones I’ve told, that one?”

“Yes, that one,” You insist, before pausing and holding back a smile while tacking on, “Unless you wanna tell it again to try and change my mind?”

Ghost thinks for a moment before telling the joke, “If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?”

You feign cluelessness for a moment, “What do they bring?”

“Pilgrims.” The bluntness of the delivery makes you quietly snicker, much to Ghost’s surprise, the laugh not forced or anything.

“It’s still good,” You sigh, small giggles still escaping your lips.

“It’s really not,” Ghost sighs, finally retracting his hand from your shoulder to settle it on the railing of your bed and use it to help himself stand up. Once he fully stands up, he looks down at you, and one look at your face makes him want to whisk you out of bed and at least hug you, but he knows he can’t with your sore muscles and still-somewhat frozen skin.

Instead, he opts for grabbing one of your hands gently and giving it a very emotionally charged squeeze, and holding it for another few moments before letting go.

“I’m not forgetting that, by the way,” At Ghost’s confused eyes, you tack on, “You confirming earlier that you think of me as your kid.”

“That—” Ghost stammers for a moment before saying, “That was barely a confirmation, that was just— that was nothing.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Yeah. Yep.”

“So if I told you that you saying that that was nothing is making me a little bit upset…”

“… Then I would say, out of pity, that I did mean it and that it was a confirmation.”

“Good to know,” You nod.

“But that’s only a hypothetical.”

“Right, yeah, of course.”

You both stay silent for another moment, the silence now a little less awkward, before Ghost says, “I’m gonna, uh… head out, now.”

“Alright,” You hum simply, watching as Ghost nods to you as a sort of ‘bye’ before heading towards the curtains in front of your bed.

Before he can exit, you quickly and quietly say, “Thank you, for saving me.”

He pauses, a little confused on why you chose now to thank him—and why you thanked him at all—until he quickly recalls earlier in the conversation when he’d mentioned expecting some words of gratitude.

He smiles behind his mask, the smile evident in his voice as he replies to you, “No problem.”

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